


Under My Skin

by cvsossong



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (I'll add more tags later), (plus there'll be sex scenes so I'll add those tags later too), Deaf Clint Barton, Demisexuality, F/M, Getting Together, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Superhusbands, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvsossong/pseuds/cvsossong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton has gone his whole life wondering who bears the mark that defines them as his soulmate. He’s just about to give up hope that his soulmate has died, long ago, when the Winter Soldier is found again and brought back as Bucky Barnes. Bucky sees Clint's arm and the mark it bears and instantly claims him as his soulmate. So now, on top of being a superhero and still getting over Loki's mind control, he has that to deal with.</p><p>Clint's life is such a mess.</p><p>(Or, the Soulmark AU I've been working on for like three months).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/)
> 
> READ THE NOTES AT THE END OF CHAPTER 1 FOR AN EXPLANATION ON MY SOULMARKS

“What’s your mark for?” Tony asked. He and Clint were lounging in the Tower after one of their latest battles—it involved robot corgis that spit fire, Clint preferred not to think about it more than he had to—and were waiting for the rest of the team to finish cleaning up.

Clint glanced over at the snowflake on his left shoulder. “It’s my soulmate mark,” he said. “Like yours and Steve’s.”

Tony rubbed absently at the vibranium structural formula Clint knew was under his shirt, directly over his hip. “So who’s your soulmate?”

“If I knew that, you think I’d be hangin’ out with you so much?”

“You know there’s a database where you can search for your mark and find out who else has it.”

Clint shrugged. “Not in a big hurry. Got my bow, that’s all I need.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tony sighed.

“What are you two talking about?” Steve asked from the doorway, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. He sat next to Tony and pulled the genius between his legs. Tony leaned back against his chest, right where Steve’s own reactor- shaped mark was.

“How disgusting you two are whenever you’re within ten feet of each other,” Clint muttered.

“You sound petty. Are you feeling petty today?” Tony grinned and leaned up to kiss Steve. Clint grimaced and rolled his eyes. “And we were talking about how Clint needs to get off his ass and find his one true love,” Tony told Steve.

“Clint will find his soulmate when he’s good and ready,” Steve chided him gently. He wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, hand coming to rest on his hip. Clint watched as Tony’s expression grew more content, a small smile ghosting across his lips.

Truth was, Clint was jealous. A little bit. A very little, tiny bit jealous of Tony and Steve, and the perfect relationship they had. They fit together seamlessly, interwoven in each other’s lives in ways Clint had never even dared to dream about.

And the worst part of everything was that Clint _had_ tried. He looked at the database every three months, searching for the mark he had been told would signal his soulmate—the constellation Orion in violet dots and lines. Nothing had ever come up. Whoever his soulmate was, they were probably long past dead.

Whatever. Clint was over it.

“You know, you don’t have to sit around waiting for your soulmate,” Steve said. “You could try… you know… normal dating.”

“Tried it. Tried it lots. Men, women, the whole she- bang. Couldn’t mesh with anyone.” Clint stretched, wincing when his shoulders cracked. “Like I told your nosy soulmate, I’ve got my bow and life is good.”

Tony rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against Steve’s chest again. “Like I said. Ridiculous.”

\--------------------

The soldier blinked blearily, opening his eyes to glare at the blindingly bright lights. “Where the hell am I?” he muttered. The words sounded strange, but he couldn’t place why.

“You’re in a safe location, Sergeant Barnes. Everything’s alright.” A man in white leaned over him and flashed a brighter light into his eyes. The soldier glared and batted the hand away. He leaned up on one arm.

He was in a hospital, surrounded by doctors and nurses. One of them was standing over him, eyeing his metal arm warily. The soldier wondered if the man was afraid he’d choke him or something.

“Where the hell am I?” the soldier repeated.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Sergeant.” The doctor turned his flashlight off and turned to one of the nurses. “Call Captain Rogers, tell him his friend has woken up.”

\--------------------

“Captain Rogers, your phone is ringing,” JARVIS said over the comm system. Steve reached over and grabbed it off the table.

“Is it your secret young lover begging for a rendezvous?” Tony asked with a grin.

Steve kissed his boyfriend's cheek and smiled back. “Close. It’s Coulson.” He answered the phone with a curt “Rogers” and headed for the kitchen to talk in privacy.

“Look, just let me design an algorithm for JARVIS, he’ll search the Internet and hack security cameras or whatever to find your soulmate,” Tony insisted.

“For the last time, I'm pretty sure that’s illegal,” Clint replied. “And even if I let you, there’s no guarantee—”

“ _What?_ ” Clint broke off when he heard Steve let out a choked noise in the kitchen. Tony was up and out of the room before the archer could even blink. He strained to hear what they were saying.

“Steve, what’s going on, are you okay?” Tony murmured. Clint saw him press against Steve and wrap a hand around the back of his neck comfortingly.

Steve was shaking, clenching the broken remains of his phone in his hand. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Tony’s. “They found him,” he whispered. “They found him, they brought him back, they’ve got Bucky.”

Clint heard Tony’s sharp intake of breath, and then the genius rubbed Steve’s shoulder comfortingly. “Okay, baby, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Take a deep breath, calm down, and then we’ll go see him.” He pressed kisses up Steve’s jaw to his cheek and continued murmuring softly to the other man.

Clint felt like he was invading on a private moment right now, so he turned away and deliberately turned the volume up on the TV.

Steve and Tony left after a few minutes, promising they’d be back soon. Clint stretched out on the couch, intending to catch a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off again or Steve came back all distressed.

Unfortunately, Clint wasn’t that lucky. Natasha showed up a few minutes later and collapsed on the couch next to Clint.

“Wake up, you and I need to talk,” she demanded. Clint groaned and sat up.

“C’mon, Nat, can’t you let me sleep?” he asked.

“Tony said you’re denying the existence of your soulmate.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Clint rolled his eyes and rubbed absent-mindedly at his shoulder. “Can’t that man just let it be? Just because he snagged up Mr. Perfect he thinks he’s gotta play matchmaker with everyone.”

“He says you’re depressed,” Natasha added.

“I’m not depressed! I’ve just given up finding my soulmate, it’s not a big deal.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

Clint shrugged. “Just… because I’ve been looking for a long time,” he said quietly. Natasha always seemed to bring out the emotional side of him, damn her. “I’ve had this mark since I was ten, Nat. I'm almost thirty-five. That’s a long fucking time to look for someone that’s probably long dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

Natasha stared him down for a minute before sighing fondly and patting Clint’s leg. “Just… keep an eye open,” she said softly. Clint nodded, and she left him alone.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, he had The Dream. He’d only had it a few times since he was ten years old and the damn mark showed up on his shoulder, but it always seemed to appear when he was under a lot of stress.

It started dark, with only a soft gray glow around the edges. Then a bright red light erupted from the center and an image appeared—the Orion constellation, stark violet against pale white skin. It was large, larger than most marks, and covered something broad. A person’s back, or a chest.

Then there was a flash of red and silver, then dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. And then everything went dark again before Clint woke up.

It was his soulmark dream. Clint hated it.

He groaned and sat up, figuring he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep after that.

“JARVIS? Who’s home?” he asked.

“You are currently the only one in residence,” JARVIS replied. “Sir and Captain Rogers are still at the hospital, and Doctor Banner left with Agent Romanov to go to dinner.”

“How’s Cap holding up with the whole ‘not-dead friend’ thing?”

“Captain Rogers is… handling it.”

“Handling what?”

JARVIS was silent for a moment, and Clint had just about given up on the AI answering when he heard, “There was a situation concerning Sergeant Barnes, and Captain Rogers was forced to sedate him. He is resting now.”

“Jesus,” Clint replied. He stood up and headed for the bedroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt. “JARVIS, tell Tony I'm coming down to the hospital in case there’s a situation.”

“I believe Mr. Stark would be grateful for the assistance.”

“Right, going now.”

The hospital was only a short drive away, and the nurses at the front desk let him right inside when he flashed his ID. Barnes was in a separate room in the ICU ward, surrounded by three armed guards and multiple security cameras.

Clint knocked on the door and let himself in quietly. He could see a figure lying on the bed, but the light in the room was dimmed. Steve and Tony were sitting off to the side, heads bent together while the spoke quietly. Tony nodded when Clint closed the door and gestured him over.

“He woke up and didn’t know where he was,” Tony explained quietly when Clint sat next to him in a chair. “He thought he was back in a Hydra facility. He’s not speaking English, just garbled Russian, so no one can understand what he’s saying.”

Steve looked pained. He rubbed his temples and sighed. “The doctors had to sedate him,” he said. “He’s been out for about six hours now.”

Clint whistled lowly. “That’s some high quality sedative.”

“They couldn’t get him to go down with the regular stuff,” Tony replied. “Said he might be immune if Hydra was using it on him for so long.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Tony glanced over at the bed when they heard Barnes shifting, but the man slept on.

“So he’s not speaking any English?” Clint asked once they were sure he was still out.

Tony shook his head. “It’s barely Russian,” he replied. “Sometimes you can make out a couple of words, but other than that it’s some kind of code Hydra must have developed, and I can’t crack it.” Tony looked frustrated with himself, and Steve rubbed his neck soothingly.

“What sort of words can you make out?”

“Small things,” Steve replied. “I only speak a bit of Russian, but I can pick out a few easy words here and there. ‘Am’ and ‘who’ are the most common. Plus a lot of colorful language.” He smiled ruefully. “So at least we know they let him keep part of his personality.”

As if on cue, Barnes stirred again, this time blinking awake. He looked around and attempted to sit up, but the handcuffs chaining his wrists to the bedrails made it impossible. Steve was immediately by his bedside, while Tony and Clint looked on from behind.

Eventually Barnes spoke, his voice gravelly from lack of use. “Где я?” he asked. “Кто ты _?”_

At least he was actually speaking Russian. Clint wasn’t fluent, but he knew enough to make out what the man was saying. _Where am I? Who are you?_

Christ, he was nothing more than a confused Russian amnesiac with a metal arm. Clint felt bad for the guy, so he stepped forward and translated when Steve looked confused.

“You’re in a hospital,” Steve replied. Barnes nodded absently, a sign he understood what Steve was saying. “I’m… I’m Steve Rogers, do you remember me?”

Barnes frowned in thought, then slowly shook his head. “Нет,” he replied. _No._

The good news was Barnes wasn’t trying to kill Steve like last time. Clint considered that major progress.

Barnes looked around the room, pausing when he laid eyes on Clint. He squinted, as though trying to make something out, and then his lips parted and his eyes widened. "Ты…” he whispered. _You…_

Clint half-expected him to try and attack again, but instead Barnes leaned forward urgently. “Это мое. Мой знак,” he said insistently. “Это мое. Мой знак.”

“What’s he saying?” Tony asked. Clint shrugged and shook his head.

“I think the first part is something like ‘that is mine’. But I have no clue about the second bit,” he replied.

“Мой знак, Мой знак,” Barnes repeated in a more urgent tone. “На твоей руке.”

“That last word was definitely ‘arm’,” Clint replied. “Something… in my arm? On my arm?”

“Maybe your mark?” Tony asked, gesturing towards Clint’s still-visible soulmark.

Clint glanced down at it, and Barnes nodded urgently. “Это мое,” he said. _That is mine._

Oh. He was trying to say that the mark on Clint’s arm—

Oh _._

“He’s saying it’s his mark. His soulmark,” Clint translated in a daze. “The one from his…” He couldn’t finish that sentence.

 _“_ В моих снах,” Barnes insisted. _In my dreams._

Tony blinked at Clint, then turned to stare at Barnes. “So, wait,” he said slowly. “He’s saying that your soulmark… the one you’ve given up on… is the one that defines _his_ soulmate?”

Barnes stared at the mark with wide eyes. Clint inadvertently looked closer at the man’s face, searching for—yep. Piercing blue eyes, dark brown hair. Same facial structure as the man he’d seen dozens of times before.

“Ты мой,” Barnes whispered, so quietly Clint had to strain to hear it. _You are mine._

Well. Shit.

\--------------------

When the soldier woke up, there were new people in the room, speaking in hushed tones. He didn’t like it, didn’t like that he couldn’t hear them. He tried to sit up, but there were handcuffs on both his wrists and he couldn’t break free. The strangers swarmed his bedside, and the soldier shifted uncomfortably.

“Where am I?” he asked. “Who are you?”

One of the strangers, a tall blonde man that seemed strangely familiar to the soldier, looked confused for a moment. Another voice spoke up and repeated what the soldier had said, but the soldier was too focused on the man in front of him to see who it was. Finally, the blonde man replied, “You’re in a hospital. I’m… I’m Steve Rogers, do you remember me?”

An image appeared in the soldier’s mind of a skinny, wheezing kid with the same blond hair as this man. But this man could not be that same child. So he shook his head. “No,” he replied.

The man looked disappointed, but the soldier was already looking around the room. It was eerily white, too staunch and sterile for the soldier’s liking. From the corner of his eye, he saw something shift and turned towards it. There were two other men in the room. One was shorter, with dark brown hair and olive skin. The solider immediately dismissed him in favor of the other man.

He was beautiful. He had sandy blonde hair and stormy blue-gray eyes, and carried himself with a confidence and self-assuredness that radiated through his body. He had a strong jaw and well-toned arms, and he was the most beautiful thing the soldier had ever seen.

He was also the most familiar looking thing the soldier had seen. He squinted, trying to remember where he’d seen that face before. When it hit him, he gasped and felt his eyes go as wide as saucers. “You,” he breathed.

This was him. This was his everything. The rush of affection and protectiveness and longing was so instantaneous once he figured out who he was made the soldier’s head spin. He glanced down at the man’s bared arms for confirmation and nearly cried when he saw the blood red snowflake starch against the other man’s skin.

“That is mine. My mark,” he said. The other man, _his_ man, frowned in confusion.

The dark haired man leaned over. “What’s he saying?” he asked. The soldier frowned. Hadn’t he made it obvious? That soulmark was his, that man was his, and he was claiming him. What did the dark haired man not understand?

“I think the first part is something like ‘that is mine’. But I have no clue about the second bit,” his man replied. The soldier frowned. Maybe they hadn’t heard him.

“My mark, my mark,” the soldier repeated. He figured if he said it loud enough they would catch on. “On your arm.”

“That last word was definitely ‘arm’,” his man said. “Something… in my arm? On my arm?”

“Maybe your mark?” the dark haired man asked. He nodded towards his man’s soulmark and raised his eyebrows.

His man looked down at it curiously, and the soldier nodded. “That is mine,” he said. _You are mine._

His man frowned in confusion for a moment. Eventually his eyes widened in understanding and the soldier relaxed. _Now he understands,_ he thought to himself.

“He’s saying it’s his mark. His soulmark,” his man said. He sounded almost ill. The soldier grew concerned that maybe something had happened to him. “The one from his…” He trailed off and shook his head. The soldier frowned. Maybe he didn’t understand how the soldier could know that was his soulmark?

“In my dreams,” he prompted.

The dark haired man said something, but the soldier stopped listening. He focused on his beautiful man, memorizing every detail that he could. The way his hips moved when he adjusted his stance. The small trio of freckles on his left wrist. The curve of his nose, the squint of his eyes, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. The soldier was obsessed. This was his soulmate, the one he had waiting for since…

The soldier frowned for a split second as he tried to remember how long he had been looking for his soulmate. There were flashes of memory, blurry and faded, but he had no way to know when the memories had taken place.

No matter. His soulmate was here now and the soldier had no intention of letting him go. “You are mine,” he murmured absently. It sounded right on his tongue.

The man’s eyes widened slightly, but he unconsciously gave a slight nod in agreement. The soldier smiled, and for the first time in forever he felt as though he was truly free.

He had found his new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY WROTE THIS. My roommate's been bugging me for months to write a soulmark AU, and now I've finally gotten the first chapter out. I'm awesome.
> 
> So basically, in case you're still confused, it's a Soulmark AU where people's soulmarks appear when they're about ten or so and they have a dream that tells them which mark will define another person as their soulmate. So Clint's red snowflake represents Bucky, and he's looking for the person (Bucky) who has the constellation Orion. Just like Steve has the blueprints for the reactor and Tony has the vibranium formula on his hip. As the story goes on I'll explain more of what the marks are and how it works, but for now that's about all I can tell you besides what's in the chapter.
> 
> Thanks to [Ai_2005](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ai_2005/) for making sense of my terrible Russian and helping to make it correct.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of Russian in this chapter, but it's mostly translated in italics. If it isn't translated in italics then Clint translates it in dialogue.

The soldier found out his name was Bucky.

He didn't exactly like that name, but the blonde man—Steve—kept calling him that so he figured it was true. 

His man was named Clint. Bucky decided right away that it was the most perfect name he'd ever heard in his entire life. _Clint Barton._

Clint never left, not after he figured out what was happening. He'd looked horribly confused for a while, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and whisper that everything was all right now. But eventually the lines on his face had faded and now he was sitting in an armchair with his feet kicked up, playing a game on his cell phone with one hand. His other was wrapped firmly in Bucky’s fingers, resting on the rails of the hospital bed.

Jesus, he was so beautiful it made Bucky's head hurt. 

“So, why’s he all… clingy?” Clint asked nervously. Bucky admitted to being a tad possessive since he’d found what was ultimately his other half in the world, but he figured he’d earned the right to be a little selfish. He’d been looking for this man for over seventy years and fuck if he wasn’t going to keep an eye on him now.

“Steve was the same way.” The dark-haired man—Tony, apparently—waved off Clint’s concerns and leaned back in his chair. “It’ll wear off. Eventually. Maybe.”

“Doubtful,” Steve said without looking up from his book.

“Can you take the handcuffs off me?” Bucky asked Clint.

“What did he ask?” Steve asked automatically. Bucky frowned in frustration. Apparently he was speaking some language other than English, but he couldn’t figure out how to switch back.

Clint shrugged and glanced over at Bucky again. “Can you repeat it, please?” he asked carefully.

“Handcuffs,” Bucky enunciated. “Off. Me.”

“Oh, he wants the cuffs off.”

Tony glanced at the cuffs worriedly. “I’m not sure that’s exactly safe, Barnes.”

“I just want to touch Clint,” he insisted. “I want to hold his hand properly. I want to touch the mark.”

“Something about me and holding hands,” Clint translated.

Tony grinned at Clint suggestively. “Aww,” he cooed. “He wants to hold your hand. That’s so sweet.”

“Shut it, Stark.”

“Maybe later you two can go make flower crowns and braid each other’s hair and watch rom-coms cuddled on the couch.”

“Stark, if you don’t shut it Steve’s gonna lose his soulmate real fast.”

Bucky snorted a laugh and rattled the chain on his handcuffs a bit. “Just for the flesh hand,” he said. “I swear I’ll be good.”

“He just wants one uncuffed. The non-metal one.”

Steve nodded and grabbed a small key from a hook by the bed. “Hold your hand up,” he ordered gently. Bucky did so without thinking and waited until the cuff was off to reach over and grab Clint’s hand. He intertwined their fingers and smiled at the warmth that spread through his arm up to his body.

“I might cry,” he heard Tony whisper. Steve pinched his boyfriend and the other man yelped and glared. Bucky was too wrapped up in his own perfect man to notice either of them.

\--------------------

Clint was… slightly uncomfortable.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault, but the fact was that Clint had been alone most of his adult life and having to suddenly share that life with someone else was disconcerting to say the least.

Bucky seemed to be handling it pretty well. He just kept stroking his thumb along Clint’s palm and staring up at him through thick eyelashes. Every once in a while he would glance towards the door nervously whenever there was a noise in the hallway, but he’d relax after a moment and go back to staring at Clint like he was some great masterpiece.

“У тебя красивые глаза,” Bucky murmured. Clint flushed and slid down a bit in his chair. _You have beautiful eyes._

Who knew Barnes was such a sap.

“He can’t stay in the hospital forever,” Clint said suddenly. Tony and Steve paused in their arguing and looked up at Clint in surprise.

“He’ll have to stay for the time being,” Steve replied carefully. “Until they can monitor him some more.”

“Я не буду причинять ему боль,” Bucky insisted.

“What did he say?” Tony asked with a frown.

“He said ‘I’m not going to hurt him’.”

“Well, that’s reassuring. Let’s just let him out now so he can roam free unattended, that should work out to everyone’s advantage.”

Bucky’s grip tightened in Clint’s hand as he growled incoherently at Tony. The genius leaned back a bit and crossed his arms. “Well, that answers that,” he murmured.

“Bucky, no one’s going to keep you locked up,” Steve soothed. “We just want to help you. We want to free you from whatever it is Hydra’s done to your mind.”

Bucky sighed and Clint felt his grip loosen a bit. “Maybe… I mean, I bet I could help,” he offered. “Bucky seems to like me.”

“Gosh, Barton, I wonder why,” Tony retorted. Clint glared and flipped him off.

“Okay, so he obviously likes me, but I mean that he likes _being around me._ There’s gotta be some kind of therapy or something that we can try. Maybe it would work best if I did it.”

Steve nodded, looking thoughtful. “It could work,” he said finally. “And it would let you two get to know each other. Just because you’re soulmates doesn’t mean you’re meant to be together.” Bucky whipped his head around to glare at Steve, who held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, Buck, I’m sure it could go either way.”

“Он мой. Он предназначен для меня,” Bucky growled. Clint flushed a bit more at those words. _He is mine. He is intended for me._

Apparently Barnes was a bit on the possessive side. Strangely enough, Clint sort of liked that.

“Maybe we should give them a few minutes alone,” Tony murmured. Steve nodded, letting Tony drag him out with one last worried glance at the bed.

Clint sat next to the bed for a minute before it clicked that _holy shit he was alone in a room with a possessive Russian assassin who happened to have his soulmark._

“So… you like…movies?” he asked lamely. Bucky arched an eyebrow.

“У меня не было времени их смотреть _,_ ” he replied. Clint frowned.

“Something like… time to see… oh. Haven’t had time to see them, right?” he asked. Bucky nodded, looking frustrated. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure out the language barrier. My Russian’s just rusty, is all.”

“Я не понимаю, почему я не говорю по-английски.” _I don’t understand why I’m not speaking English._ Bucky looked even more frustrated, and Clint leaned back in his chair instinctively.

“You’ve been under KGB control for a long time,” Clint replied. “It’s just gonna take a little getting used to.”

Bucky nodded and leaned back in the bed. “ _Ты_?” he asked after a moment.

“Do I what?”

“Ты любишь смотреть фильмы?” _Do you like movies?_

Clint grinned and leaned forward again. “Yeah, I love ‘em,” he replied. “All sorts of movies, too. Action, fantasy, sci-fi, horror.”

Bucky grinned and sat up on his elbows. “Не романтические комедии?” he asked.

Clint rolled his eyes. “No, dickhead, not romantic comedies. Tony’s just being an asshole.”

“Покажешь мне как-нибудь свой любимый фильм?”

Clint frowned. “One more time, a little slower.”

Bucky sighed, clearly frustrated again, but repeated his question. Clint caught the words ‘movie’ and ‘sometime’ and grinned.

“You want me to watch a movie with you sometime?”

Bucky nodded and watched Clint anxiously. “Можно?” _Is that okay?_

Clint glanced down at their hands, still firmly intertwined, and leaned down to kiss Bucky’s fingers quickly before he could overthink it. He heard Bucky inhale quietly and smiled up at him. “Yeah, we can watch a movie,” he replied. “We can watch one now if you want.”

Bucky nodded, eyes wide with shock. “Я хочу,” he murmured. “Я хочу.”

Clint swallowed and glanced away to hide his blush. _I want._ “Okay,” he managed. “Let’s see what this hellhole gets on cable.”

\--------------------

Over the next two weeks Clint came to the hospital at dawn when visiting hours opened and stayed until long after the nurses threatened to call security and kick him out. He brought over piles of movies and pushed the armchair over so it sat next to Bucky’s bed, and together they’d watch movies for hours at a time. Bucky kept a firm grip on Clint’s hand the whole time he visited.

“Doctors say you’re doing better,” Clint said one day. He glanced over at Bucky and paused the current movie they had on. “Said maybe you can come with us to the Tower in a week or so.”

“Don’t… don’t… хочу обидеть,” Bucky replied. Clint had been helping him with the English, but Bucky wasn’t nearly as far along as he wanted to be. It was frustrating, knowing the language was right on the tip of his tongue but not being able to grasp it.

“You won’t hurt me,” Clint reassured him. “You won’t hurt anyone. You haven’t hurt anyone in over a week, and it was only because that doctor—”

“My fault,” Bucky interrupted. He still felt horribly guilty about it—some doctor had tried to give him some anesthesia for the pain in his left shoulder and he had flipped out and slammed the man against a wall with his free hand.

“It says on your chart not to use anesthesia, not to knock you out, and not to approach you with a needle when I'm not here,” Clint said. “It wasn’t your fault. He ignored those instructions, Bucky.”

Bucky managed to sit up and nervously twitched his fingers. He snuck a glance at Clint and was amazed at how he still managed to take Bucky’s breath away.

“I don’t like this name,” he said suddenly. Clint frowned in confusion and Bucky twitched his fingers again aimlessly as he thought about what he would say. “Bucky. That name. It feels… wrong. Like it is someone else.”

Clint nodded slowly. “That’d make sense, after not hearing it for so long,” he replied. “You’ll get used to it though.”

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t want to,” he insisted. “Not from you.”

“Why not?”

“You are…” Bucky struggled for the word and came up empty. “новый.”

“New?”

“Yes. Not from my past. Not from when I was Bucky.”

Clint leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows on the bed. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “So you want me to… I don’t know, use a new name?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what name did you have in mind?”

Bucky reached for his chart at the foot of the bed and made a noise of frustration when the handcuffs snapped him back. Clint reached over and grabbed it for him.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky read aloud.

“Really? Like the president of the United States?” Clint grinned. “Was your mom really into history or something?”

Bucky shrugged and flipped through the chart quickly. “Not sure. Never got the chance to ask.”

“Well, I’m not calling you ‘Buchanan’.”

“James.”

Clint looked up at Bucky, who was staring at his file with a strange, manic glee in his eyes. “You want me to call you James?”

“Yes. James. Not Bucky.” Bucky turned to look at him and carefully reached out to grasp Clint’s fingers. “I want… чтобы быть вашим.” _To be yours._

Clint exhaled slowly and nodded. “Okay. James. I can work with that.”

“Good.” Bucky glanced at the TV and smiled shyly. “Can we watch… фильм? The movie?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Clint started the movie up again and leaned back in his chair, almost absently rubbing his thumb along Bucky’s knuckles. “Just one more week,” he whispered. “And we’ll get you out of here, James.”

Bucky’s breath hitched and Clint saw him smile to himself.

In the end, it took nine days to get Bucky released. The doctors were still nervous that Bucky might suffer a psychotic break and kill everyone in the Tower, but Tony managed to convince them that between the Iron Man suit, a genetically altered supersoldier, a fifteen-foot green rage monster, and a Norse god, they would probably be able to handle themselves. Fury finally relented, though he made Tony swear that Bucky wouldn’t leave the Tower for at least three months.

“I doubt he’ll want to leave Clint’s room for at least that long,” Tony had quipped back, shooting a wink over his shoulder. Clint had rolled his eyes but stayed silent. He figured that if he put up any kind of a fight now Fury would haul Bucky off to some godforsaken prison in the middle of nowhere and leave him to rot.

“Yeah, so, this is my floor,” Clint said when the elevator doors opened. Bucky stepped out, pausing in the hallway and sweeping the room with his eyes. Clint waited patiently until Bucky had finished his check. He’d been doing that with every room they entered—not that Clint could blame him, really.

“Kitchen’s upstairs, but there’s a fridge over in the corner there and usually chips or something in that cupboard. Here, down here’s the bathroom and that’s…” Clint froze and swallowed hard. His bedroom. The one bedroom on his floor. The room he and Bucky would, inevitably, have to share. “That’s the… the…”

“Bedroom,” Bucky supplied. He glanced in casually and glanced around quickly, mapping out the room in his mind.

“Yeah. The bedroom. Where the bed is.” Clint shouldn’t be nervous. He should have expected this. Why hadn’t he prepared for this while Bucky was still at the hospital? “Yeah, so… the bedroom’s there. Are you hungry? I’m starved, let’s go see what’s in the kitchen.” With that, he dragged Bucky back to the elevator and upstairs.

Tony curled on the couch next to Steve, tapping away at one of the many tablets he seemed to keep around the Tower. He glanced up and nodded in greeting when they arrived. “Food arrived an hour ago,” he said before Clint could ask. “JARVIS got those gross chips you like.”

“Go to hell. Come here, James, you’ll like these chips.”

“Not if he’s got taste buds he won’t.”

Bucky grinned and followed Clint into the kitchen. “Who is JARVIS?” he asked.

“He’s an AI. Like a robot, but smarter and all over the Tower,” Clint explained. “Ask him anything at anytime and he’ll answer you.”

“Say hi, J,” Tony called.

“A pleasure, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS replied. Bucky glanced up at the ceiling and frowned.

“Not Sergeant,” he mumbled. Clint grabbed Bucky’s hand before anything could happen and guided him to the table.

“How about Agent, JARVIS?” he called out. “Agent Barnes would be appropriate.”

“Of course, Agent Barton,” JARVIS said. “I shall change my information immediately.”

Bucky nodded and pulled Clint down to sit next to him. “I’ll try a chip,” he whispered. Clint grinned and poured some in a bowl for them. Bucky picked one up and inspected it for a moment before popping it in his mouth. His eyes lit up, and Clint was reminded of a child at Christmas.

“It’s good. Like… like limes,” he said.

“See? Told you he’d like them,” Clint called out smugly. He pushed the bowl towards Bucky and stole a few for himself.

“Good to know you both have the same disgusting taste,” Tony replied. Steve glanced over at them and smiled fondly at his friend.

Steve did that a lot. Bucky tried not to think about it too much, because when he did his throat closed up and his gut clenched with guilt at the thought of abandoning Steve to the world for seventy years, even if it had been unintentional. Bucky still didn’t know Steve, not like he used to, but he knew there was something there and it hurt to know he had caused Steve pain.

Instead of letting the thoughts consume him again, Bucky popped another chip into his mouth and smiled softly in return. Steve nodded and went back to the TV show he’d been watching without a word.

“We’ll have to get you some clothes,” Clint said softly. Bucky turned back to him and watched the way his jaw moved as he chewed a potato chip. “Can’t just have you walking around in SHIELD issue sweats forever.”

Bucky hummed in agreement and stroked Clint’s fingers with the pads of his own. “Could I kiss you?” he asked suddenly.

Clint swallowed and watched Bucky’s fingers for a moment. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s okay.”

Bucky leaned over and tilted Clint’s chin up with his metal hand gently. “Just quickly,” he reassured. Clint nodded, nervously licking his lips.

The first brush of his lips against Clint’s was nothing like Bucky expected. He’d read stories about soulmates who described the first kiss as fireworks, or an electric shock. Some powerful, sudden pulse of _feeling_ from one person to the other.

Instead, kissing Clint was like lighting a candle. Clint’s lips were chapped and rough against his own—Bucky was reminded of sandpaper for a moment—and the first touch was nothing like electricity. It was nothing like… anything, really. It was only afterwards, when he felt Clint’s breath on his lips, that something heated in his veins and travelled through his core. Something warm, like a tiny flame.

His only coherent thought for a while was that Clint tasted like limes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, someone wrote a fic inspired by this one and it's fantastic!!! This is amazing it's the first time that's ever happened to me and you all should 10000% go check it out and leave the wonderful author kudos and comments and all the love in the world. On a related note, this chapter is dedicated to [avengersincamphalfbloodstardis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersincamphalfbloodstardis/), who wrote the wonderful fic, titled 'these marks you've left on me', and who not-so-subtly hinted that they wanted an update. I stayed up till 4 am writing this chapter. Worth it.
> 
> I am, unfortunately, a liar who lies. I had said I was going to tell you Natasha and Bruce's soulmarks in this chapter, but I couldn't make it fit. I swear I'll put them in next chapter and explain their marks. Also, as a side note, I don't speak a lick of Russian. Not one word. So if I've written any phrases wrong, please let me know and I'll change them immediately. Thanks!
> 
> Also, I swear I'm finishing up Signs of Life. But there's this, and An Unexpected Family, and I just have so many ideas it's crazy right now. All will come soon, I swear.
> 
> (Also there really is such thing as lime flavored chips and they're delicious).


	3. Chapter 3

After Clint had given Bucky a tour of the Tower—twice—and stuffed him full of lime-flavored chips, he realized he had no other way of putting off the inevitable.

“So, yep, this is the bedroom,” he said awkwardly. Bucky glanced around, quickly checking in closets and under the bed, until he nodded in satisfaction. “There’s a dresser for you, Stark put it in after—well, after we found out. And a couple of clothes in your size in there, though we'll have to get you some more. And a towel in the bathroom. And… there’s the bed.”

Bucky looked over at him and then at the bed. “I can sleep…not here,” he said. “On… on the… диван.”

“On the couch?” Bucky nodded and Clint shook his head. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous, we’re soulmates and we can share a bed.” He laughed awkwardly and scratched his cheek. “We’re grown adults, it’s a big bed, and besides, I’ve shared a bed with worse.”

“I’ll be good. Stay to my side,” Bucky reassured him.

Clint grinned at that. “Wouldn’t have expected otherwise, what with you just getting out of the hospital. I'm just gonna, you know, grab a quick shower.”

Under the hot water, Clint tried to calm himself. He could do this. He’d shared a bed with Natasha before, and she kicked in her sleep until Clint was black-and-blue.

Suitably chastened, he shut off the water and dressed quickly in lounge pants and a t-shirt. He toweled his hair off, brushed his teeth, and took a deep breath.

Bucky was sitting on the couch when Clint came in. “I will sleep here,” he said affirmatively. “Until you are… certain.”

Clint smiled in spite of his nerves. “It’s really okay,” he replied. He sat on the bed and pulled the covers back a bit. “Besides, we’re gonna watch a movie and you can’t see the screen right from there.”

Bucky bit his lip and stared at the bed. Clint shuffled under the covers and patted the mattress beside him. Now that Bucky had so adamantly tried for the couch, Clint decided he wanted the man next to him. “Come on, James,” he soothed. “It’s a big bed, yeah? It’ll be like sleeping in separate beds almost anyways.”

Cautiously, Bucky nodded and made his way to the bed. He stared at the covers for a moment, then pulled them back and awkwardly slid in. It was sort of endearing.

“Which movie?” he asked. Clint grabbed his tablet and sorted through the choices.

“Nothing loud, nothing war-like, nothing with gunshots,” he muttered to himself. “How about _Big?_ That’s about a kid that’s turned into a grown-up, it’s pretty funny.”

“Alright. If you like it.”

Clint pulled it up and wriggled back until he was settled against the pillows. Bucky was sitting ram-rod straight, as if he were afraid he might break something. “Come on, big guy, the bed’s nice and soft,” Clint encouraged.

Slowly, Bucky leaned back and slid further under the covers. “You’re sure this is okay?” he asked quietly.

“Sure thing,” Clint replied. “Gotta jump in feet first, right?”

\--------------------

Bucky woke up the next morning to a wet tongue on his cheek and one doughy brown eye staring at him. In hindsight, he may have overreacted.

“James, put the gun down,” Clint murmured next to him. Bucky had a pistol pointed at a large tan dog, who was staring back at him with unabashed curiosity. “It’s alright, James, that’s my dog Lucky.”

“Lucky?” Bucky murmured. The dog perked up at the sound of his name and tilted his head.

“Yeah, I used to call him ‘Pizza Dog’, but Lucky seemed more appropriate for a dog name. He used to belong to this mafia leader, but then Lucky saved my life and followed me home and now I feed him and watch movies with him and he’s sort of my best friend so please don’t shoot him.”

Clint sounded more distressed now. Bucky slowly lowered the gun and slid it back under his pillow. “If he is yours, I won’t hurt him,” he said quietly. Clint grinned and patted the bed with a quick whistle. The dog leapt up and licked Bucky’s face one more time before settling next to Clint.

“Do you like dogs?” Clint asked as he scratched Lucky’s ears. Bucky smiled.

“I used to have one, when I lived with my father at the army base,” he replied. Clint relaxed and shot him a lopsided grin.

“Good. He seems to like you. Then again, he likes anyone that feeds or pets him.”

The dog whined in pleasure when Clint scratched a certain spot, and Bucky leaned over and traced the dog’s fur gently with his flesh hand. “It’s alright, don’t be worried,” Clint said. “He won’t bite or anything, he’s a good dog.” Lucky perked up and bumped his nose against Clint’s. “That’s right, you’re a good dog,” Clint crooned.

“I thought birds didn’t like dogs.”

Clint glanced up and laughed in surprise. “Did you just crack a joke, Barnes?” he asked.

Bucky flushed and scratched under Lucky’s chin. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“And you’re speaking English better. That’s good progress.” Clint stood up and stretched, and Bucky intentionally looked away from the strip of skin revealed under his shirt. “You want some coffee?” he asked.

“Please,” Bucky replied. “Strong and black.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how to make Soviet coffee.”

Bucky stood and followed him into the kitchen, and Lucky trailed after him happily.

“What happened to his eye?” Bucky asked as he sat at the counter. Clint glanced over and grinned at the dog.

“I used to live near this mob boss, and Lucky used to belong to him. I’d give him pizza or food sometimes, and then some of the mobsters started shooting at me and Lucky jumped in and saved my life. Mobsters didn’t take that too well, and beat him pretty bad. Even threw him into traffic. But I got him to a vet in time, so he’s okay except for the eye.”

“You would steal a dog from a mob boss.” Bucky whipped around at the voice and saw a red-haired woman sitting on Clint’s couch. He frowned.

“You weren’t there before,” he said. The woman arched an eyebrow and crossed her legs.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked slyly.

“Give it up, Nat. James always checks a room before he enters it, he’d know if you were there,” Clint called. He slid a mug of coffee over to Bucky and handed one to the redhead.

“James?” she asked quietly. Bucky ignored her and took a sip of his coffee.

“You are Natasha,” he said. “The Black Widow.”

“You remember me.”

Bucky shrugged. “I remember some. Steve spoke of you while I was in the hospital.”

Clint leaned against the counter next to Bucky and glared at Natasha. “Why are you here?” he asked. “And where’s Bruce?”

“Still sleeping. And I wanted to meet your soulmate.” Natasha stood gracefully and extended her hand to Bucky. He stared at it for a minute, calculating all the different ways he could kill her with that hand. Then he reached out and shook it.

“Добро пожаловать,” she said quietly. Bucky nodded in return and sat on his stool again.

“Your mark is… Greek?” he asked. Natasha glanced down at her wrist and smiled.

“Greek letter for ‘gamma’,” she explained. She held up her hand and Bucky examined the small green ‘ **γ** ’ symbol on the inside of her wrist. A DNA strand wrapped around it in a neat circle. “It’s… complicated to explain.”

“Mine is just dots and lines,” Bucky replied. “I wish it were that easy to figure out.”

Clint frowned. “It’s not just dots and lines,” he argued. “It’s Orion.”

Bucky shrugged and scratched at his ribs, where he knew the mark was hidden. “I don’t know what that is.”

Clint set his coffee mug down and gestured at Bucky’s chest. “Come on, shirt off,” he urged. “You’ve seen yours, let me see mine.” Bucky shrugged and slipped his shirt off. “See? That’s Orion, the archer. It’s a constellation.”

Bucky knew nothing about astronomy, so he just shrugged and nodded in agreement. “We never could figure out what it meant,” he replied. “And then no one ever bothered to tell me while I was…” He trailed off and shrugged again.

Clint handed him his shirt back, but not before carefully brushing his fingers over Bucky’s mark. “It’s bigger than I thought it’d be,” he murmured. “Bigger than most.”

“Steve’s is pretty big, too,” Natasha replied. She shot a wry grin at Bucky. “Guess they made them bigger in the 40s, huh?”

Bucky snorted and slipped his shirt back on. Clint rolled his eyes and grabbed Bucky’s hand. “You’re ridiculous. Come on, I’m starving and it’s Bruce’s day to cook. He makes the best eggs, trust me.” With that, he pulled Bucky towards the elevator. Natasha followed silently with Lucky close behind.

The rest of the team was already on the communal floor by the time they arrived. Bucky tensed at the idea of so many people in one room, but Clint dragged them off to one side and sat them on a couch away from the others. He relaxed and scanned the room quickly.

Steve was in the kitchen, making coffee while Tony sat at a table and tapped at a small device in his hand. A taller man that Bucky didn’t know sat at the counter next to a short, curly-haired man with wire-rim glasses. Clint leaned over and pointed to them quickly.

“That’s Sam Wilson, aka Falcon, and that’s Bruce Banner. He’s the Hulk sometimes, if you’ve ever seen the big green monster on the news,” he murmured. Bucky nodded and relaxed back into the couch.

“Sam Wilson. He is one that fought with Steve when we were in DC,” he whispered. Clint nodded and scooted closer to Bucky on the couch, crossing his legs and leaning on his elbows.

“Sam’s been living here a couple of months,” Clint replied. “He’s sort of an unofficial Avenger. Fury won’t sign off on him just yet, so he’s still in probationary period, but he’s good people.”

“What about Banner?” Bucky asked. He kept a sharp eye on the man and couldn’t help but notice that he seemed nothing like his green counterpart. “What happens if the Hulk emerges?”

“That doesn’t happen very often. And if it does, he won’t hurt anyone here. He usually just wanders around or sits on the floor and watches cartoons until he gets bored and lets Bruce come back out.”

Bucky frowned and watched Natasha lean over the counter and kiss Bruce’s cheek. “They are soulmates?”

Clint nodded. “Bruce has his mark on his shoulder. Ballet slippers, apparently. I’ve only ever seen it a few times when he’s the Hulk, and then it’s almost too small to see.”

“They don’t seem… compatible.”

Clint grinned and knocked his shoulder against Bucky’s. “What, and we do?” he asked. “They’re good for each other, anyways. And Hulk would never hurt her, not in a million years.”

Bucky took one of Clint’s hands and tangled their fingers together. “I would not hurt you, either,” he murmured quietly. It was suddenly very important to him that Clint knew that, that Bucky would sooner die than harm his soulmate.

“I knew that,” Clint replied. He smiled reassuringly and stood up. “Come on, I’m starving.”

\--------------------

If Clint had to pick one thing about Bucky he’d never in a million years expected, it was that the man was affectionate.

Very affectionate.

The Winter Soldier was supposed to be a hardened, cold-blooded assassin. James Buchanan Barnes was a clingy, cuddling mass of muscle and gentle kisses. It was unnerving, to say the least.

Not that Clint overly minded. Sure, he was still getting used to the idea that his soulmate was a former brainwashed Hydra assassin, but weirder things had happened in his life. Clint was nothing if not flexible.

Bucky hadn’t even tried anything sexual yet. The man seemed perfectly content with just kissing him and latching on to him like an octopus every chance he got, so that was a bonus.

“So, I don’t have to tell him, right?” Clint asked Natasha a few days later. They were in the firing range, Clint firing off arrows while Natasha watched silently.

“You’ll have to tell him,” Natasha replied. “It’s important he knows his boundaries.”

“But maybe by the time he initiates sex I’ll be fine with it—”

“You need to tell him, Clint,” Natasha interrupted. “Otherwise he won’t know one way or another. People like Barnes and I, people that grew up in that world? We like control. We like knowing every aspect of a situation. The more information the better. Keeping something that big from him could be dangerous.”

“They didn’t have it in the 40s, though,” Clint argued. “He’s not going to understand.”

“So explain it to him,” Natasha said. “He’ll listen to you. He always does.”

That night, Clint sat cross-legged on the bed and watched Bucky shave in the bathroom. “Hey, I got something to tell you,” he said suddenly. Bucky glanced over and nodded.

“Just a second,” he replied. Clint heard the water turn on and saw Bucky splash his face quickly. “Alright, shoot.”

Clint grinned. Natasha had griped that his awful language skills had managed to rub off on Bucky, but Clint didn’t care so long as the man didn’t sound like a bad robot anymore.

“Alright, so you know how in this century there’s lots of new laws about gay people, and they’re allowed to do lots of things that you couldn’t do in the 40s, right?” he started. Bucky nodded and sat on the bed across from Clint. Clint nodded nervously and took a quick breath. “Right, so you know now there’s more than just gay and lesbian, too?”

“JARVIS sent me websites,” Bucky replied. “There’s transgender, and bisexual, and pansexual, and I think one called asexual.”

“Yeah, and there’s things in between that, yeah?” Clint added. “Like, for example, demisexual.” Bucky frowned in confusion, and Clint hurried to explain, “That’s like, when you don’t have a sexual attraction right away. You have to have a connection to someone, like a deep bond, to be sexually attracted to them.”

“Like soulmates,” Bucky prompted. Clint shrugged and shifted a bit closer to the other man.

“Sort of, but even then it can take a while,” Clint replied. “It’s just, like, you need time to get to know someone really well.”

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but Lucky’s bark cut him off. The dog jumped on the bed in between them and curled against Bucky’s hip with a sigh. Clint used the distraction and pushed forward. “It’s just, I was talking to Natasha today and she said I should tell you about this, since… you know… I am. Demisexual, that is.”

Bucky was silent for a minute, and Clint shifted uncomfortably. “You are not attracted to me,” Bucky said finally. “Not yet.”

“Yeah, but that’s temporary,” Clint replied. “I mean, it’s only been a few days, and I like you a lot, it’s just… not sexual. Yet.”

Bucky nodded slowly. He looked vaguely distressed about something, and Clint panicked because of course he wouldn’t be comfortable having a soulmate that didn’t want to have sex, so of course now they’d go right back to being awkward and uncomfortable around each other all the time and it was all Clint’s fault—

“Have I been making you uncomfortable when I kiss you?” Clint looked up at Bucky’s sudden question and saw that the man was frowning.

“Huh?”

Bucky took Clint’s hand, then thought better of it and moved away. “When I kiss you, or touch you, does that make you upset?” he asked. “What are my limits? Should I sleep on the couch until you’re ready and we’re better connected?” A light sparked in his eyes and he nodded to himself. “You can pinch me if I get too close, or if I do something you don’t like, and then I’ll know what my limits are until you’re ready. Or Tony said something about using colors in bed, and we can just use them in regular life when I get too close to you—”

Clint couldn’t help it. Bucky just sounded so earnest about the whole idea, and it was the exact opposite of what Clint had been expecting. He leaned forward, put his head in his hands, and burst into laughter.

Bucky glared down at him and pushed his shoulder lightly. “Look, the only other option is something that Tony called a ‘safe word’, if you like that better—”

“Ohmygod, no, stop, you’re adorable,” Clint gasped. “We are _not_ using safe words out in the open, that’s definitely a bedroom only thing.” He took a shaky breath and wiped his eyes, still grinning. “Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you—I mean, I was, but not because of what you were saying. Just… you’re so _okay_ with this.”

“Of course I am,” Bucky replied. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Clint grinned again and leaned forward to kiss him quickly. “I don’t mind kissing,” he said. “I like that. And I like you being close, and holding my hand, and all that mushy stuff. Just the sex is a no. For now. Give me a little bit, it’ll hit me soon enough.”

“Oh.” Bucky relaxed and took Clint’s hand carefully. “Good. I don’t want to make you upset.”

Clint reached up and twisted a strand of Bucky’s hair around his finger. He had decided to keep it long for now, and Natasha had taught him how to put it up in a bun away from his face, but a couple of pieces always managed to slip out. “Tell you what. You ever get too handsy or do something I don’t like, and I’ll pull your hair. Okay?”

Bucky nodded and kissed Clint’s forehead. “Deal. Can we watch a movie tonight?” And just like that, Clint felt all the tension in his body slip away. He pulled Bucky back on the bed and curled into his flesh arm, feeling better about the whole ‘soulmate’ thing than he had in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, just to keep a running list, the soulmarks are as follows:
> 
> Tony- white vibranium structural formula on hip (think something like [this](http://i.stack.imgur.com/wu8Z9.png) even though that's obviously not vibranium)  
> Steve-blue reactor blueprint design on chest (something like [this](http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/142/6/d/Arc_Reactor_Blueprint_by_MarkFinn.jpg))  
> Clint- red snowflake on arm (like [this](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S9wBk_oDpms/TffIbz5SK1I/AAAAAAAACD8/P1tCIRuw06E/s400/a5.jpg))  
> Bucky- purple Orion constellation on ribcage (like [this](https://img0.etsystatic.com/021/0/8286805/il_570xN.473273768_1wa3.jpg))  
> Natasha- green gamma symbol and DNA strand on wrist (DNA strand something like [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/89/f1/0d/89f10d0aafe8bfed42a904b4edf6d8c7.jpg))  
> Bruce- black ballet slipper with red ribbons on shoulder (something like [this](http://www.airbrushbodyart.co.uk/shopping/image/cache/6048-500x500.jpg))
> 
> Russian words: 'Добро пожаловать' means 'welcome'.


	4. Chapter 4

Adjusting to living with another person was not going well for Clint.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. It was just that Clint had lived alone since he was seventeen years old, and he’d never been good at relationships. He’d always been afraid that when he found his soulmate it would turn into a nightmare for him, what with the sleeping together and living together and eating together and being together _all the time._

Apparently he was right.

“Christ, can’t I have a second to myself?” he shouted.

Bucky frowned up at him from his seat on the couch. “All I did was ask how the training session with the new agents went today,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, but you’re always here,” Clint huffed. “I mean, we sleep together, we eat together—we do everything together, and you’re just _always_ here. Don’t you have something better to do than sit around here all day?”

If Clint hadn’t been running on half an hour’s worth of sleep and four cups of coffee, he might have seen the hurt on Bucky’s face. Instead, he turned towards the kitchen and stalked off to find something alcoholic to drink. By the time he’d turned back around, Bucky was gone.

He didn’t show up that night to sleep. Clint just shrugged and slid into bed by himself, ignoring the fact that his right side felt colder than usual.

He didn’t show up that morning to make coffee. Clint patted Lucky’s head and fed him and made the coffee himself.

By that evening, Clint was getting sick of being alone. Bucky wouldn’t answer his calls or texts, and Natasha just gave him the look when he asked if she had seen him.

“I get that you’re getting used to having a soulmate,” she’d said, “but do your best to remember that you’re not the _only_ one getting used to it.”

Bucky didn’t show up for dinner, even though Clint made his favorite food—grilled chicken and sweet potatoes. Bucky didn’t show up for movie night, even though Clint put his favorite movie on— _The Godfather: Part II._

Lucky whined and scratched at the front door when it hit 1 am. Clint sighed and stood up with a sigh. “Alright, let’s go looking for him,” he said. Lucky barked softly and wriggled impatiently until Clint opened the door. Then he shot down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button with his nose.

“You’re getting too smart for your own good,” Clint muttered. Still, he got in the elevator and waited while Lucky pressed the button for the gymnasium.

Bucky was throwing punches at one of the metal-enforced punching bags Tony had designed after Steve starting going through the ones at SHIELD twice a week. He was shirtless and sweating, and the temperature in the gym was turned all the way on high. Clint immediately started sweating when he opened the doors.

“James, have you been down here all day?” he called.

Bucky paused and glanced at the door. Lucky barked happily and bounded over to stand by him. “I… you said you wanted some time alone,” he said carefully.

“Not twenty four hours of alone time.” Clint walked over and grabbed Bucky’s hand before he could turn back to the punching bag. “Look, I was just really tired and… I’m not exactly used to sharing space with someone. The last time I had a relationship that lasted this long was when I dated an acrobat at the circus for six months, and even then we had separate trailers.”

Bucky swallowed and stared firmly down at the floor. “I’m not… this is new to me, too,” he muttered. “I was alone for seventy years, you know.”

Clint sighed and reached out to gently take Bucky’s hand. “Yeah, I know that. It’s just… we gotta learn to share space with each other, you know? It’s just gonna take a little time. But I promise I won’t snap at you like that again.”

Bucky nodded and squeezed Clint’s hand. “Yeah. Thanks. JARVIS told me you put _The Godfather_ on earlier this evening. Can we still watch it?”

Clint grinned and tugged Bucky away from the punching bag. “Even better, I put Part II on. And hell yes we can watch it.”

\--------------------

“Christ, you’re hot.”

Bucky snuffled in his sleep and blinked up at Clint blearily. “Huh?” he croaked.

“You’re like a furnace, Barnes,” Clint griped. “I’ve got all the covers kicked off and the fan on high and I'm still sweating like a Senator on trial for fraud.”

“M’sorry,” Bucky mumbled. “Gonna go sleep on the couch.” He sat up and managed to stumble out of bed without falling over Lucky’s sleeping form. The dog glared up at him before settling back down again.

Clint sighed and threw the covers off the bed entirely. “James, get your ass back here,” he called. “Come on, lie down again, you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

Bucky blinked at him in confusion for a second, then shrugged and climbed back into the bed. “Make up your mind,” he muttered. “Can’t keep runnin’ ‘round like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. How come you’re so hot tonight, huh?”

“Don’ know.”

“You feeling sick?”

“No.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You probably worked yourself into a sweat. Come here, you can share my pillow.”

“’Kay.” Bucky scooted up until his head was cushioned next to Clint’s and promptly fell asleep again. Clint snorted to himself and peered over the edge of the bed.

“You wanna come up?” he asked quietly. Lucky jumped on the bed and lay down on Bucky’s side with a content sigh. “You two are so spoiled.”

Lucky whined in agreement and promptly fell asleep, too.

Bucky had been living with Clint for about three months now, and Clint was still getting used to the idea of someone sharing his bed. Bucky was a fitful sleeper and tended to cling tightly to Clint whenever he could, and he ran hotter than a fucking furnace, especially when he had nightmares. Still, Clint couldn’t complain too much. Bucky made breakfast and coffee for him every morning, and watched all the movies Clint suggested—and _liked_ them—and even let Clint steal all his pillows to make a giant fort for them in the living room. It was sort of like having a best friend that Clint could sometimes make out with.

The best part was that Bucky never pressured him. Clint normally dreaded being this far in relationships, mostly because his partners always got antsy and tried to pressure him into having sex. But Bucky seemed just fine with holding hands and cuddling together and making out on the couch.

The next morning, Clint woke up to the smell of coffee and Lucky’s pathetic whining in the kitchen. He grinned and rolled out of bed to stumble into the kitchen.

“That smells amazing,” he moaned. Bucky grinned over at him and set a mug on the counter in front of him.

“Morning,” he greeted. Clint grunted and gulped the coffee down, but he managed to look up in time to take the plate Bucky handed him.

“Mornin’,” he replied. Bucky placed another plate next to him and wrapped a loose arm around Clint’s waist.

“Hope you like cheese in your eggs. I put in pepper, too.”

“You’re an amazing person.”

“I know I am. Can we watch a movie tonight?”

Clint finished his coffee and reached over to fill his mug up again. “Sure. I found this new action movie that I think you’ll like, it’s got Bruce Willis and it’s basically old people fighting bad guys.”

“Sounds good.” Bucky glanced down at his arm and shifted it slightly. “Green, right?”

“For the last goddamn time, James, we are not doing this in public view. Safe words are for the bedroom, when we have sex.”

“But what if I do something you don’t like—”

Clint turned in his seat and pressed his hand to Bucky’s mouth. “We’ve been together for three months. I'm pretty confident that you’ve figured out what the boundaries are. Not that there are many, but still. You don’t have to question every time you touch me.”

Bucky looked sheepish, but he kept his arm around Clint’s waist. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Good. Now let’s go sit on the couch and you can cuddle me and we’ll eat our eggs and watch movies.”

\--------------------

Clint collapsed next to Bucky on the couch and burrowed into his chest. “Rough day?” Bucky asked.

“Mmph.”

“New agents totally incompetent?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Bucky carded his metal fingers in Clint’s hair and his flesh fingers in Lucky’s fur. “Wanna watch that _Robin Hood_ movie with that guy from that gladiator movie?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Clint fell asleep halfway through the movie, and Lucky followed soon after. Bucky managed to untangle himself long enough to make some popcorn and coffee, but then Clint started making noises in his sleep and Lucky started whining pathetically so Bucky went back to the couch.

“You two are really, really spoiled,” he whispered.

“Shut it,” Clint muttered. Bucky smiled.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said.

“How’m I s’posed t’sleep with you movin’ ‘round?”

“You’re missing the movie, you know.”

Clint sat up with a groan and blinked at the TV blearily. “Still watching _Robin Hood_?”

Bucky nodded. “I like this one better than the one they put out in ’38.”

“What, seriously? Come on, Errol Flynn was in that one.” Clint crossed his legs and leaned his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “You have no taste in movies.”

“I like almost all the movies you show me,” Bucky protested.

“No one ever said I had good taste in movies, either.”

\--------------------

The Avengers call was inevitable. They’d gone long enough without a group of mutant polar bears attacking downtown or some mad scientist with a robot fetish taking control of Jersey City and frankly, Clint considered it a miracle that they’d made it three months without some bullshit happening.

 _“You’re needed in Pittsburgh_ ,” Fury barked as soon as his video call went through. Clint groaned and rolled off the couch.

“What happened, did the city start rioting after a hockey game again?” Tony asked.

_“Close. Doom’s in town and he’s got a robot octopus with him.”_

“Great. You know, you’d really think the Fantastic Four would do something about him every once in a while, just to give us a break from _their_ villain.”

“You can’t assign villains to any one team, Tony,” Steve chided.

“Watch me,” he replied. Still, he made his way to the balcony where his suit was stored and threw a pillow at Bruce’s head as he passed. “Come on, Green Giant, time to rock and roll.”

Bruce sighed and sat up, adjusting his glasses carefully as he watched the news feed that was playing on the TV. “This looks pretty terrible,” he commented dryly. Natasha hummed from beside him and kissed his cheek before heading off to gear up.

 _“We need all hands on deck,”_ Fury ordered. _“Including Barnes.”_

Clint blinked and turned to glare at the hologram. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he asked. “James can’t go fight, he’s still recovering.”

 _“He’s had over three months to recover. If he’s gonna live with the Avengers, he’s gonna fight with the Avengers. Put a gun in his hands and get the hell to work.”_ With that, the communication cut off and Clint cursed.

Bucky pulled his hair back in a loose bun and stood up from the couch. “I’ll get changed into some gear,” he said. Clint caught his arm as he passed.

“This is lunacy,” he argued. “Cap, tell him this is lunacy. He could hurt himself, he needs more time!”

“Fury’s right. We need all hands for this,” Steve replied. He glanced at Bucky and frowned in concern. “How’re you feeling about this, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged. “Same as I have every day,” he said. “I can fight. It’ll be like sparring with Natasha.”

“There’s a big difference,” Clint muttered. Still, he dropped Bucky’s hand and followed him into the elevator. “If you notice anything wrong, or you feel bad in any way, you put the gun down and walk away, alright?” he murmured once they were alone.

Bucky wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to his temple. “I’ll be fine. Besides, if I back off, who’ll be there to save your sorry ass?”

“Don’t be a punk,” Clint shot back with a grin.

SHIELD had given Bucky a new uniform after about a month of him living in the Tower, and Clint watched now as he put it on. It looked similar to the one Hydra had given him, but Coulson insisted this one had more high-tech gear connected to it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Clint asked as they dressed. Bucky slipped his shirt off and glanced at Clint over his shoulder.

“I told you, I’m your back-up,” he replied. “I’ll be fine.”

Clint sat on the edge of the bed and plucked nervously at his bowstring while Bucky finished dressing. He couldn’t help but admire the hard planes and contours of Bucky’s chest. The deep violet soulmark on his ribs stood out against his pale skin, and Clint felt a twinge of satisfaction at the sight.

“We should watch that movie you were telling me about tonight,” Bucky said as he finished dressing and began strapping various weapons on.

“Which one?”

He frowned in thought. “The one with the girl from that movie where she shoots the arrows. With the blonde boy.”

“ _Hunger Games_? You mean Jennifer Lawrence, right?” Clint licked his lips and stared at their DVD shelf. “You talking about _American Hustle_?” Bucky nodded and Clint grinned. Bucky was absolutely terrible at remembering movie names, so it had become a sort of game for him to figure out which movie he was talking about based on his terrible clues. “Sure, we can watch that tonight. And you promised me quesadillas, too.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“Don’t you lie to me, we talked about this three nights ago. Remember? I said I wanted Mexican food and you said you knew how to make quesadillas but you couldn’t make it last night because we didn’t have the ingredients so you had JARVIS order the things you need and they arrived this morning so you said you’d make them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Clint threw a pillow at him and hopped off the bed. “You are such a little shit,” he accused with a grin.

Bucky slid the strap of his sniper rifle over his shoulder and kissed Clint’s cheek as he passed by. “But I’m your shit,” he called as he walked to the elevator.

The battle was fairly straightforward at first. Doom made a few threats, shot a few lightning bolts, and sent a small army of robot squids hurdling through downtown Pittsburgh. Thor was able to take care of Doom himself, and the rest of the team handled the robots. It was only when the last, largest octopus fell and crushed a building that Clint realized Bucky had been perched on that rooftop.

“Shit. James, answer me,” he called through his comm. He cursed when all he heard was static and sprinted across his own rooftop. “Stark, meet me in midair and get me over there, Bucky was on that roof.”

Tony swooped in and grabbed him as he leapt off the edge of the roof, and dropped him down beside the sparking remains of the robot. There were still about a dozen robots to take care of, so Clint was alone as he searched through the wreckage with growing desperation.

_Please, please don’t let him be crushed. I just got him, for Christ’s sake, I don’t wanna lose him yet._

\--------------------

The soldier opened his eyes and looked around. It was dark, but he could make out faint slivers of light between the cracks in the rocks. He shifted the rubble off him and stood up warily.

“James!” a voice called. The soldier turned towards the voice and frowned. He knew that voice from somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. “James, answer me!”

The soldier stepped around the rubble and jumped off to land on solid ground. He shook his head to clear the dust from his hair and slid behind a building as someone approached the area he had just been standing in.

“James, baby, please tell me you’re still alive,” the man muttered. “Come on, quit giving me the silent treatment and come out.”

The soldier blinked, then blinked again—

And Bucky opened his eyes.

“Clint?” he called. Clint turned and sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he sighed. Bucky suddenly had stumbled back Clint clung to his shirt and burrowed into his chest. “Christ, James, I thought you were stuck in that rubble.”

“I was, for a little bit. I pulled myself out.”

Clint pulled back and raked his gaze over Bucky’s form. “You’re limping funny, are you hurt? Did you break something? And you’ve got blood on your jacket. What happened?”

“I think I fractured something in my leg. And I think there’s a cut on my chest. But other than that, I'm fine.” Bucky leaned down and kissed the corner of Clint’s mouth quickly. “Come on, let’s go see if the rest of the team needs our help.”

Luckily, the Avengers had already taken out the rest of the bots by the time Clint and Bucky arrived. Steve jogged over and looked Bucky over quickly before waving a few SHIELD agents over.

“They’re going to take you to medical,” he said briskly.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky replied. “I’m not going back to that hellhole.”

“Buck, you’ve got a sprained ankle and you’re bleeding steadily. You need to go to medical.”

“Medical can come to me. I'm going back to the Tower with the rest of you.”

Steve sighed and turned to one of the agents. “Can you do that?”

The agent shrugged and jotted something down in a small black notebook. “I’ll just add him to the list. That makes four members of your team that refuses proper medical attention.”

“Fantastic,” Steve sighed. He tapped a robot’s head with his foot and glared up at Bucky. “They’ll send a doctor over, and you’re going to sit quietly and let them examine you, got it?”

“Got it.”

Clint nodded mutely in agreement and pulled Bucky over to the Quinjet parked in the street. “Come on, time to go,” he muttered to Bucky as they walked.

“What’s the rush?” Bucky asked. He let himself be pushed into the Quinjet and strapped into a seat, but he made sure to grab Clint’s hand firmly before the archer could move away.

“I just watched my _soulmate_ collapse with a building, and now I'm taking said soulmate home and getting him checked out by medical, and then I'm going to make him grilled cheese and force him to watch bad 80s inspirational movies with me as punishment for almost giving me a heart attack,” Clint replied.

“It’s not that bad.”

Clint snorted. “James, imagine if I had been on that roof.”

Bucky immediately gripped Clint’s hand tighter. “You make a valid point,” he said tightly.

“Good. Now let’s go home so I can coddle you and we can watch _Footloose_.”

Back at the Tower, Clint pushed Bucky onto the couch in the communal floor and headed for the kitchen. “Sit there and cuddle with Lucky while I get the first aid kid.”

“I thought medical was going to come check me out,” Bucky called. Lucky jumped up on the couch and settled between his legs with a soft whine. “Hey, watch it, I’m bleeding here.”

“Medical’s stuck back at SHIELD for a bit, what with all the terrifying squid-bots causing panic and injury all over the city. So you get me instead.” Clint collapsed on the couch and pushed Lucky aside a bit to make room for his legs. “Here, take your shirt off.” Bucky shrugged out of it with a wince and leaned forward so Clint could dab some medicine on the cut across his chest. It was bad enough that it would probably scar over, but Bucky already had several scars on his chest and back so it wouldn’t show up too much.

Bucky watched him work silently, mulling over what had happened during the attack. Everything seemed hazy, but he knew that when he’d first pulled himself out of the wreckage he’d nearly reverted back to the Soldier again. He’d thought after three months things would go away, but apparently he was wrong.

“Hey, Clint?”

Clint glanced up and paused his hand on Bucky’s chest. “Yeah?”

“I…”

Bucky paused and bit his lip. If he told Clint that he’d almost gone back to the Soldier, they might pull him off the Avengers again and then he couldn’t keep Clint safe. But if he kept it to himself he might do real damage if it happened again.

“James?” Clint was frowning in worry now. “Are you okay?”

Bucky nodded quickly. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to let you know…” He bit his lip and sighed to himself. “I wanted to let you know I love you.”

Clint blinked up at him. “Huh?” he managed.

Bucky shrugged and took the cotton swab from Clint’s hand to finish cleaning the wound. “Yeah. I just figured… with what happened today, I should tell you. Just in case.”

Clint swallowed and blinked again. “You… you wanted to tell me you love me?” His voice was dangerously close to a squeak by now.

“Yeah. And you don’t have to tell me back, but I just wanted you to know.” Bucky shrugged nervously. “As long as it doesn’t freak you out or anything.”

“No, no, it’s just. No one’s ever told me that. Before.”

Bucky frowned. “No one’s ever told you they loved you?” he asked.

Clint looked uncomfortable now. He laced his fingers in Lucky’s fur and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Not really,” he confessed. “I mean, maybe when I was younger, my parents and brother and stuff. But never… like this.”

Bucky lifted Clint’s chin with the tip of his finger. “You’re my soulmate,” he murmured. “You’re my soulmate and my boyfriend and I love you. You let me steal the covers and don’t mind that I run hot, and you deal with my terrible cooking and you’re so patient with introducing me to the new world. You and Lucky are so important to me and I love you, and I want you to remember that.”

Clint nodded and smiled warily. “You really mean that, don’t you?” he whispered.

Bucky smiled and kissed him gently. “Absolutely,” he promised.

Lucky licked their cheeks and yipped happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost Valentine's Day!! I'll be updating the rest of my fics pretty soon, but I wanted to tell you in advance that I just got a new job so updating will be pretty spotty for a bit until I get my schedule in order and whatnot. Thanks for sticking around, hope you like this chapter!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that little explicit warning at the top? Yeah, that kicks in right about here.

Bucky was on cloud nine for the next two weeks.

He had a life, and a home, and a dog, and he was in love with his soulmate. For once in his life things actually seemed to work out in his favor.

It didn’t even matter that they weren’t having sex. Clint promised him that he’d be ready soon, but for now Bucky got to wake up every morning to the archer curled up against one side and a large brownish- yellow dog curled up on the other side. It was basically heaven.

“Mornin’,” Clint mumbled. Bucky smiled and kissed the top of his head before angling down so Clint could see his lips.

“You look like hell,” he replied. Clint shoved his shoulder and sat up blearily. Bucky reached over to the bedside table and grabbed Clint’s hearing aids before he said anything else.

Clint hadn’t told him he was deaf until recently. Apparently he hadn’t told anyone on the team until after several months had passed, so Bucky considered it a small miracle that Clint hadn’t just flat-out hid it from him. Still, Bucky felt a twinge of guilt when he thought about how often he’d spoken to Clint when the man probably didn’t even know what he was saying.

Lucky stirred beside them and yawned before leaping off the bed. Bucky watched him go and rolled his eyes. “You know that dog is totally spoiled, right?” he said.

Clint grinned. “What’s spoiled about him? He just eats all the time and sleeps when he’s not eating.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re just jealous.” Clint leaned over and kissed him quickly. He stretched and rolled out of bed to follow Lucky into the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll make waffles,” he called over his shoulder. Bucky pulled on a t-shirt and followed him.

It didn’t matter to Bucky that they weren’t having sex, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have… urges. Natasha said that it was totally normal—Bucky wasn’t demisexual, and he was in love with Clint. Of course he would find his boyfriend sexually attractive. As long as Bucky didn’t try to act on it before Clint was ready, she assured him that it was nothing to be ashamed about. So when Bucky watched Clint move around the kitchen and found himself staring at Clint’s ass as it moved—well, he tried not to feel too guilty about it.

Jesus, Clint had a nice ass. He had a nice everything, really. Bucky had always gone for people smaller than him—girls with delicate hands, guys with small statures—but Clint was apparently the exception. Bucky liked his toned arms, his broad hands, his muscled back. Everything about Clint was perfection.

It wasn’t until Clint turned around and bent over that Bucky realized he was hard. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said quickly. Clint just hummed and went about making breakfast for the three of them. Lucky whined softly as Bucky passed until he reached down and scratched the dog’s head.

Bucky felt better with the hot water beating down on his back. The desire was still there, but at least he didn’t feel so guilty about it.

Natasha had told him that if he really needed to, he could “pleasure himself” (even though Bucky hated the way that sounded). Bucky figured that if he did it quickly now he’d be okay for the next few days or so. He didn’t like doing it, mostly because he felt like he was almost cheating on Clint, but desperate times and all that.

He was only half-hard when he took himself in hand, but that quickly changed when he started stroking. Bucky closed his eyes and did his very best to imagine that it was Clint’s hand on his cock, stroking down the shaft firmly, whispering in his ear—

“James?” a voice called. Clint opened the bathroom door and glanced in. Bucky jerked his hand back and grit his teeth to reign in his incoming orgasm. “You’ve been in here like half an hour,” Clint continued. “You okay?”

“F-fine,” Bucky managed. Fuck, he was so close and Clint’s voice was doing nothing to help keep it under control—

“You sure? You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m okay.” Christ, if Clint didn’t leave soon Bucky was going to come right in front of him.

“Alright. Breakfast is ready when you’re done. Better get there fast before Lucky eats all the food.” Bucky heard the door click shut and sighed in relief. He barely had to touch himself before he was coming with a mangled groan.

Clint was already sitting at the table when Bucky went out to the kitchen again. He handed Bucky a cup of strong black coffee and slid a plate full of waffles towards him. “What were you doing in there?” he asked as Bucky sat down.

“I just… really felt gross,” Bucky said vaguely.

“How? You just took a shower last night.”

Shit. Bucky had forgotten about that. “Must’ve… must’ve really been sweating last night. It was pretty hot,” he managed.

“That’s gross,” Clint replied. Lucky yipped next to him and Clint handed him a piece of a waffle.

“Shut up.”

\--------------------

“So, what would you say if I told you that James is thinking of leaving me?”

Natasha cursed in Russian and turned to glare at Clint. “What the hell are you even talking about?” she asked.

“He’s been acting… weird lately.” Clint shrugged and collapsed on the couch with his head in Natasha’s lap. “He takes showers all the time and spends a lot of time alone now, and he’s been so distant—”

“He’s horny, Clint.”

Clint froze and stared up at her. “Come again?” he managed.

Natasha sighed and patted Clint’s head in pity. “He’s horny. He’s in love with his soulmate, who he finds sexually attractive. It’s been almost five months since you two got together. He’s going to get all hot and bothered under the collar when he looks at you. It was bound to happen.”

“But that doesn’t explain the distance thing!” Clint protested. “He’s not talking as much as he does, especially after the showers.”

“He feels guilty because he’s jerking off in the showers.” Natasha shrugged and Clint’s confused expression. “He told me it doesn’t feel right.”

“So this is all my fault?”

“I never said that. It’s not like you can control it, Clint. And neither can he.”

Clint shifted until he was lying on his side. “He should have told me,” he muttered. “I would’ve helped him. I don’t mind giving blowjobs or handjobs to someone else, I just don’t want it done to me right now.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Natasha replied. “This is the first time he’s known someone who’s out as a demisexual. He doesn’t know what your limits are. For God’s sake, Clint, he still uses safe words in day-to-day life.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t talk to me!”

“He doesn’t know what he can or can’t do yet. You need to talk to him and set the boundaries.”

Clint sighed and sat up. “Am I waiting too long?” he asked quietly.

Natasha rolled her eyes again. “Are you ready for sex?”

“No.”

“Then no, you’re not. Now go talk to your boyfriend before his sex drive gets us all killed.”

Bucky was lounging in bed, watching a movie with Lucky curled up at his side. Clint whistled quietly and waited until Lucky had bounded out of the room before shutting the door.

“Something wrong?” Bucky asked. Clint shrugged and sat on the bed facing him with his legs crossed.

“Not really. Just… you know you can tell me anything, right?” he said. Bucky nodded and leaned forward, so Clint continued, “It’s just, you’ve been spending some time to yourself and taking all these long showers, and I asked Natasha if she knew what was going on and… she says you’re… you know, horny. Ready for sex. Whatever you want to call it.”

Bucky looked vaguely horrified, so Clint curled against his side and pressed his face into Bucky’s collarbone. “Hey, relax, I’m not angry or anything,” he soothed. “I just, you know, wished you’d talked to me about it or something.”

“I didn’t want to worry you or make you feel bad,” Bucky whispered. “I shouldn’t… you’re not ready, I shouldn’t want this yet—”

“That’s ridiculous,” Clint interrupted. “You’re still gonna have sexual urges and stuff, James. Just tell me next time and I’ll help you out.”

Bucky leaned back so he could stare at Clint properly. “Help me out?” he repeated.

Clint grinned and shifted until he was straddling Bucky’s lap with his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Any chance you’re feeling those urges now?” he asked with a smirk.

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded, so Clint pushed until he was lying back. “You know two is better than one,” Clint told him. “I might not want it yet, but I sure as hell know how to give it good.” He unbuckled Bucky’s belt and tossed it to the other side of the room before undoing the buttons on his jeans.

“You don’t have to—” Bucky tried. Clint leaned down and kissed him before he could finish the sentence.

“Shut up and enjoy it, baby,” he whispered when he pulled away. “Besides, I want to do this for you. Want you to feel good. Then when I’m ready I know you’ll make me feel good, too. Right?”

Bucky groaned and nodded, and Clint slipped the waistband of his boxers down to his thighs. He glanced down and whistled at the sight. “Damn, James, I knew you were hung but from this angle it looks like a third leg.”

“Don’t talk about my dick like that,” Bucky managed. “It might get insulted.”

“Ain’t nothing insulting about that thing, baby.” Clint wrapped his hand around the length and stroked a few times, grinning at the way Bucky arched into his grip. “You like that?”

“Fuck yes,” Bucky moaned. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the bed tight in his fists. “God, Clint, keep going.”

Bucky was already rock-hard, so it didn’t take more than a few hard strokes and one quick lick to the tip of his cock to have him coming over Clint’s hand. He collapsed on the bed with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling while Clint hopped off the bed and went into the bathroom to wash his hand.

“So how was that?” Clint asked with a grin when he came back into the bedroom. Bucky was still staring at the ceiling with an expression full of wonder. The man looked like he’d just seen Santa Claus and Jesus at the same time. It really helped boost Clint’s ego.

“That was… wow,” Bucky breathed after a minute. “I don’t… I didn’t think…”

“Next time you’ll ask me to lend a helping hand, huh?”

“Definitely.”

\--------------------

It wasn’t like being hit by a truck, or a wall of realization. Clint never woke up in the dark of night with a sudden and inexplicable warmth flooding over his chest. There was no _aha!_ moment, no eureka that hit him and changed his life.

Falling in love with Bucky was much, much slower.

It was more like lighting a candlewick that had already been burnt to a crisp. Hard to start, but once it caught it spread and leapt with light.

Clint fell in love with the little things first. Like the way Bucky made Clint’s coffee with three sugars instead of two just to make it a little sweeter, or the way he always sat on Clint’s left side so Lucky could take his place on Clint’s right. Clint fell in love with Bucky’s smile when he was especially tired and the way he favored his right foot when he was sparring and the way he scrunched his eyebrows together when he was watching a late-night commercial about deep clean vacuums or easy to use Tupperware containers.

Clint especially fell in love with Bucky’s face. It was like he had to make up for all those years of being an emotionless, brainwashed assassin, so now he let every emotion show on his face at any given time. Clint could tell when Bucky was tired, when he was hungry, when he was raging mad or blissfully happy. But Bucky was most expressive when they were in bed together. The look he got on his face when Clint slid under the covers next to him and wrapped a hand around his cock was one of Clint’s favorite looks.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Bucky sighed. Clint grinned and adjusted himself until he was straddling Bucky’s thighs more firmly.

“Yeah? Better than doing it yourself, huh?” he said with a low chuckle. Bucky snapped his hips up and grabbed Clint’s waist gently to keep him from falling off. “Easy, baby, we’re just getting started tonight.”

“C-can go more than once,” Bucky panted. “Hurry up an’ finish this one, I’ll show ya.”

Clint had discovered that whenever Bucky was close to coming, his Brooklyn accent would come out a little more than usual. It was the hottest thing Clint had heard come out of Bucky’s mouth.

“Alright, hang on, I’ve got something real special for you.” Clint twisted his hand and rubbed his thumb firmly over the head and Bucky came with a choked shout.

Clint rolled off and curled into Bucky’s side while the other man caught his breath. “Not bad, right?” he smirked.

“Mmm. Round two better be nicer than that.”

Clint laughed and rolled onto his stomach to grin up at Bucky. It wasn’t until he caught his piercing blue gaze that he realized what had been there, creeping up on him slowly.

_I’m in love with James Barnes._

Clint just smiled and leaned down to kiss Bucky’s collarbone. It didn’t scare him the way he’d thought it would. His next realization was even less terrifying.

_I really, really want James to fuck me into this mattress._

Oh, thank God.

Clint kissed Bucky and shifted until he was lying fully on top of the other man. Bucky reached up and carded his fingers hesitantly in Clint’s hair, tilting up into the kiss while Clint reached down and undid the buttons on his jeans.

“You gettin’ ready for bed?” Bucky asked when Clint pulled back to shimmy out of his pants. Clint just grinned at him and stripped out of his boxers.

“Not just yet. You did say you could go a few rounds,” he replied.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you gotta take off your pants.”

“Does if I want you to fuck me.”

Bucky sat up and stared at Clint until he rolled his eyes and climbed on top of Bucky’s lap. “You… you what?” Bucky stammered.

“Yeah, it just kind of hit me out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere, it’s been coming on for a while. Knew it wasn’t gonna be much longer, and I was just lying here and realized ‘oh my God, I totally want this guy to pound me into a mattress until I can’t sit down tomorrow’, and besides—”

Bucky cut him off with a bruising kiss and Clint sighed into his mouth. Now that they were both naked Clint could tell he was _definitely_ into this, and from the way Bucky was moving it was clear he was ready for round two. He flipped Clint onto his back and moved over him, grinding his hips down onto Clint’s with a soft moan.

“Green, _fuck_ this is so green,” Clint muttered. “See, James, _that’s_ how you use safe words—”

“Shut up. Lemme know if it changes to yellow.” Bucky mouthed at Clint’s collarbone and held Clint’s wrists gently when he writhed down on the bed.

“It is so green right now, I swear to God. The only way it could get more green is if you sucked my cock.”

Bucky glanced up and arched his eyebrows. “I can do that,” he said simply.

Clint grew hard as a rock at that, and he nodded frantically as Bucky trailed his lips down Clint’s trail of hair under his navel. Clint had to admire Bucky’s dedication—there was no teasing or playing around when Bucky took his cock in his mouth.

 _God_ , it was good. Bucky was warm and wet around his dick, sucking and licking wherever he could as he took Clint deeper in his mouth. Clint was right on the edge when Bucky pulled off and rolled his hips back up to grind against Clint’s while he kissed him. “You’re gonna kill me, baby. You need to fuck me. Now.”

“Getting to it. Condom,” Bucky managed. Clint pointed to the drawer in the bedside table and Bucky leaned over and grabbed a box. He threw it at Clint and fished out a tube of lubricant while Clint fumbled with the box and grabbed a wrapper. He ripped it open, rolled Bucky until he was on his back, and managed to get it on the man’s cock while Bucky slicked his fingers up and slipped a finger inside Clint.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Clint panted. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ, holy shit that’s good.”

“I’ve barely put one in,” Bucky grinned.

“Shut the hell up and fuck me, James. _Now_.”

Bucky opened him up quickly with his fingers while Clint rolled them again until he was on his back with Bucky on top. “Quit rolling around,” Bucky growled. Clint just grinned and pulled him down for a hard kiss while Bucky lined his cock up and pushed into Clint.

It was almost embarrassing how little it took to have them both coming hard on the sheets, but Clint couldn’t really bring himself to care. He had _sex._ With his _soulmate._ And it had been _fucking amazing._

Bucky sighed into the crook of Clint’s neck and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. Clint pushed him until he rolled to the side and slipped the condom off into the trash. “So… how long has that been a thing?” he asked. Clint shrugged and draped an arm over Bucky’s waist.

“My guess? Two, three weeks. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, since I don’t feel like that all the time. It didn’t really click until I was looking up at you just now, though.”

“Glad you did.” They heard a scratching at the door and Bucky crawled out of bed to let Lucky inside. “You’re staying on the couch tonight,” he told the dog. “That bed is unfit for you to sleep on now.” Lucky whined but padded over to the couch and hopped up. He curled into a tight ball, sent Bucky one last pathetic look, and fell asleep. Bucky snorted and fell back into the bed again. “Spoiled mutt,” he muttered.

“You’re the one that spoils him, you know.” Clint yawned and draped himself over Bucky’s chest. “Now hold still, I’m tired and you make a good pillow.”

Bucky carded his metal fingers in Clint’s hair and hummed noncommittally as Clint closed his eyes and slipped into peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying really hard to update more than just once a month, but with college and work it's hard to juggle things around right. I swear things should start kicking up again soon. Until then, it's my spring break this week and I've got nothing better to do than write fanfic and update chapters! So expect another chapter of Unexpected Family and possibly another update to this one, too!
> 
> Clint's realization that he is sexually attracted to Bucky comes from a mix of what I've read by demisexuals and the growing possibility that I myself am demisexual. However, if for any reason you feel it is inaccurate, you can let me know. I have heard that it's different for everyone, though, so please keep that in mind.


	6. Chapter 6

The thing about Clint was that once he had it, he was insatiable.

He and Bucky started having sex _everywhere_. On the table in their kitchen in the mornings, lounging across the couch in the afternoons, against the wall when they happened to pass each other and Bucky would push him into a corner. It was fantastic. It was mind-blowing. It was… _sore_.

“Remind me never to let you fuck me in the shower again,” Clint grumbled as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Bucky just grinned over the lip of his coffee mug and slid a plate of eggs across the table to him.

“Please, you were practically begging for it,” he smirked. Clint glared at him and shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“I really don’t want to be part of this conversation,” Tony said dryly. “But it’s good to hear you two getting along so well.”

Bucky frowned in confusion. “Isn’t that the point of soulmates?” he asked. Natasha scoffed from where she was sitting on the couch.

“You haven’t been here long enough,” she replied. “You have yet to witness a famous Stark-Rogers fight.”

“We don’t fight, we lovingly debate,” Tony argued.

“Last week you threw a vase at his head.”

“Yeah, but I threw it lovingly.”

“Promise you’ll never throw a vase at my head,” Bucky said to Clint.

Clint grinned and ate another mouthful of his breakfast. “I make no such promise.”

Not that Clint would ever intentionally hurt Bucky—he did love him, after all. Tony just called it the ‘honeymoon phase’, but Clint sort of doubted that they’d ever get out of there. He wasn’t an arrogant man, but it was pretty clear to see that Bucky adored Clint more than anything.

Well, except Lucky.

Bucky and the dog had become faster friends than anything Clint had ever seen. Lucky was at the point where he refused to go on an evening walk with anyone but Bucky. Bucky had gone on a mission to Cleveland overnight at one point and Clint couldn’t get Lucky out the door that night, no matter how much he tried. Clint would’ve been jealous, but it was sort of endearing seeing them so close.

After Clint finished his breakfast and Bucky had his third coffee of the morning, Clint dragged him upstairs for round two of the day—which was very firmly on the bed this time.

“You don’t even want to try the shower again?” Bucky teased when Clint pushed him down on the bed to lie on his back. Clint glared at him and straddled his hips.

“Not on your fucking life. I can feel my ass tingling, Barnes, this is not a pleasant experience.”

Bucky laughed and rolled them so he was on top. “Hang on, I’ll give you something pleasant,” he replied, and promptly made it so Clint forgot any pains his body may have had.

Sometimes there were days when Clint sort of went back to before, when he woke up with Bucky’s arm around his waist and the only thing he could think was, _Wow, today seems like a great day to cuddle and watch bad 80s movies._ If Bucky tried something on those days, Clint would unintentionally freeze up because sex had been the farthest thing from his mind and the idea of having it right then seemed majorly uncomfortable for him. Fortunately, Bucky was good enough at reading body language that he knew when to back off.

On those days, Clint would always feel strangely guilty. He knew that he was allowed to take a few days off from having sex—honestly, it might not be such a bad thing with how rigorous things got between him and Bucky nowadays. But when he froze when Bucky touched him, the other man would always get this strange look in his eyes and Clint would eel like the biggest asshole for pushing him off. I took a few weeks for him to finally bring it up while they were lying in bed one night.

“I don’t care about you not wanting to have sex,” Bucky had replied. “You know I’d never push you. I just hate thinking that I'm making you uncomfortable.”

“But you don’t even know that you are until I say something,” Clint had protested. “And you always listen.”

Bucky had grinned and kissed his cheek. “That’s why I still say we should use the colors all the time,” he’d teased. Clint had groaned, and that had been the end of that.

Really, it was sort of disgusting how domestic his life had become. He slept in, woke up in the arms of his soulmate with a giant dog draped across their feet, watched movies, ate pancakes, and occasionally saved the world from giant monsters and evil geniuses.

It was on such an occasion that everything seemed to crumble to pieces.

\--------------------

The call had been relatively simple. JARVIS had interrupted _Mean Girls_ —which, incidentally, Steve and Bucky _loved_ —to inform them that someone had created giant flying monkeys and said monkeys were now invading the lower east side of Queens.

“ _Ten foot tall flying monkeys. How is this my life,”_ Tony grumbled over the comm. Bucky ignored him and refocused his riflescope. For every one monkey he took down, three seemed to pop back up in its place. Frankly, it was starting to get tiring.

 _“Can we focus on the mission, please?_ ” Steve called from down on the streets. He and Natasha were back to back as a hoard of monkeys attacked them from all sides. Bucky picked off a few that were straying too close and then went back to looking for the source of the monkeys.

He found it eight blocks down and hauled his rifle onto his shoulder as he ran across the rooftops. There was an open sewer lid in an abandoned alley behind an apartment building, and monkeys were streaming out of the hole while an older, gray-haired man watched them fly off while laughing maniacally.

“I’m starting to get tired of these mad scientist clichés,” he said on the comm. He heard Tony hum in agreement while he set up his rifle again.

 _“Where are you?”_ Clint asked over their private line. _“I lost you a few blocks back, there’s a line of clothes blocking my vision.”_

“Relax, I got this,” he replied. “Just focus on making sure New York doesn’t turn into something from _The Wizard of Oz_.”

 _“I’m amazed you understand that reference,_ ” Clint joked.

“You do know that movie came out in 1939, right?”

Whatever Clint said next was blocked out by a burst of static. Bucky jerked back in shock at the sound and glanced around to make sure he wasn’t under any telephone wires. Sometimes they interfered with the signal even though Stark had sworn he’d—

 _“_ _Распутин_.”

The soldier stood and turned to await his orders.

\--------------------

“Does anyone have eyes on Bucky?” Clint asked as his fired off another arrow. “I lost sight of him a few minutes ago and he’s not answering on his comm.”

“ _Probably just interference from the telephone wires, since_ someone _didn’t fix them,_ ” Natasha replied.

_“Hey! You try being the owner of a multi-billion dollar company and a superhero and then tell me if you have the time to fix some faulty SHIELD issue comm units.”_

Clint ignored them and adjusted his position to see if he could find Bucky. Nothing. It was a little frustrating, but Clint figured he was a grown man and knew how to handle himself. Besides, they were only monkeys.

 _“So, I found Barnes,”_ Sam cut in. _“Is it weird that he’s just standing on the edge of a building? It’s weird, right_?”

Okay, maybe Bucky couldn’t handle himself.

“Is he doing anything? Or saying anything? Does it look like he’d frozen in fear?”

_“Calm down, Barton. He’s just… standing. Staring. Hair blowing dramatically in the breeze.”_

“ _Why isn’t he taking out the monkeys?_ ” Tony said irritably. _“Or, I don’t know, maybe finding the psycho that made the monkeys?”_

_“Ask him yourself. He’s on the move now, heading towards where you are.”_

“Is he saying anything? Maybe his comm’s just broken.” Clint fired off three arrows in quick succession and squinted against the sun to see if he could find Bucky’s form. He caught it quickly a few blocks from where he had been, but then he disappeared again when he jumped off a ledge. “Why’s he heading for Stark?”

“ _Got me. I don’t need any back-up here, I'm having a blast shooting these things.”_

Clint heard Steve grunt and a monkey’s screech before he cut in. _“Just focus on the mission, Bucky knows what he’s doing.”_

There was a pause, and then Tony’s voice crackled through. _“I wouldn’t take that bet,_ ” he said. “ _It kind of looks like Barnes is aiming for me.”_ There was a loud, vibrating gunshot, and Clint heard Tony curse. _“Yeah, that was definitely at me. We have a situation.”_

“Was he maybe shooting for something near you?” Clint asked. He could hear the desperation seep into his voice, but he didn’t care because if Bucky was shooting at Tony then that meant—”

“ _There aren’t any monkeys that close to me,_ ” Tony replied. _“And Barnes never misses.”_

Clint broke out into a sprint as he headed for Tony’s location, muttering curses to himself as he ran. Something had happened, something bad, and now Bucky was back to his Winter Soldier state and _why didn’t Clint see this coming?_

Bucky was on an east rooftop, taking careful aim at Tony while he flew around, dodging bullets and monkeys at the same time. Clint didn’t hesitate, just tackled Bucky to the ground ad knocked the rifle from his hands. “You’re clear, Stark, hurry up and finish this so we can—” Bucky cut him off when he elbowed Clint firmly in the collarbone and hooked an ankle around his leg. Clint yelped when they flipped but landed a few punches to Bucky’s cheek before Bucky managed to worm his way on top and pounded Clint’s head into the cement.

After that it all started to get fuzzy. He could hear people yelling in his ears, and Bucky was looming over him again with a dark look in his eyes and a knife in his left hand. There was a whoosh of air, and then all Clint could see was the tops of buildings and offices as he as carried through the air.

“Wha’s happ’nin’?” he managed.

“ _Good to see you’re still among the living,”_ Tony said. Clint glanced up and frowned at the glint against Iron Man’s chest. _“Someone go get Barnes, make sure you fucking restrain him—”_

After that, the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a (very) short little chapter to remind you that I'm not dead. My semester has been completely hectic and I've been going crazy with homework and my job, I swear my semester ends in like 2 weeks and then I'll have lots of time to write. Just bear with me. (Oh my god this is so short I'm so sorry). 
> 
> Russian terms used:  
> Распутин- 'Rasputin', a faith healer during the reign of Nicholas II who was assassinated.


	7. UPDATE

Hey guys, I'm sure you've been wondering where I am and what the hell is going on where I haven't updated in several months. Long story short, I was pretty busy with work and then about three months ago my computer started acting up, freezing and running slowly and all that so it was difficult to type anything. Luckily, I finally got my computer into a repair shop and Apple is fixing it as we speak so I should have it up and running in a few days. I am NOT abandoning these works, I promise I will update them and continue writing, all I ask for is a little more patience. You're all fantastic and I'm so glad you stuck with this story!!


	8. Chapter 8

Clint woke to the incessant beeping of a heart monitor and Natasha’s face staring disapprovingly down at him.

“Well, I'm obviously not in Heaven, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” he tried feebly. Natasha continued to glower at him and he sighed. “What do you want from me, Nat?” he asked.

“I thought you said you could handle Barnes if things went south,” she replied coolly.

Clint struggled to sit up and grabbed the glass of water by his bed. “Yeah, well, so did I.”

“You mean you hadn’t tried it yet?”

“Well, he hadn’t exactly gone Winter Soldier on me before now, so no. Not really.”

Natasha sat in the chair by his bed and stole a sip of his water, seemingly placated. “We’re tracking him now. All we know for sure is he’s out of the country. Intelligence says it could take weeks to find him again.”

“And in the meantime Hydra’s doing God knows what to his brain,” Clint grumbled. “Probably fucking him five ways to Sunday with all their code words and missions.”

“We have a bigger problem than your boyfriend’s brain,” Natasha said. “He’s a trained assassin, Clint. They’re most likely going to start using him again. And that means the bodies’ll start piling up soon. The government won’t be likely to forgive him a second time if that happens.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Clint said angrily. “I’m handling this one crisis at a time, thank you.”

Natasha sighed and stood up again. She laid a cool hand on his forehead and half-smiled down at him. “We’ll get him back, don’t worry,” she said. Clint tried to take that as reassuring, but mostly he just felt a little sick.

\--------------------

_Fight. Breathe. Sleep. Fight._

_Take orders. Take targets._

_No thoughts. No disobedience. No mercy._

_Fight. Breathe. Sleep. Forget._

\--------------------

“It’s just a minor concussion, I can fly the Quinjet no problem.”

Tony arched a brow at Clint and scoffed. “You almost fell down the stairs today,” he accused. “Excuse me for not wanting you to fly my expensive, high-tech plane into central Siberia on a hunch.”

Clint groaned in frustration and stared Tony down across the table. “If it was Steve, don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same,” he growled.

“Of course I would. But there are key differences between you and I. Namely, it’s my damn plane.”

“But Bucky could be there!” Clint protested.

Tony grabbed his tablet and swiped across quickly, looking for something. “According to this file, he could also be in Germany, Belgium, Costa Rica, and Greenland,” he replied. “It’s a theory, Barton. They’re checking every place where a Hydra base was found or suspected just in case. The odds of finding him in Siberia—”

“Are better than my chances of finding him just sitting around here!” Clint said hotly.

“We need more evidence than your gut feeling!”

Clint huffed and pushed out of his chair. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will,” he said hotly.

As he stalked out of the room, he could hear Tony call out, “Who? SHIELD? The US Army? Hey, I have a great idea, Hydra’s got a few jets that could get you to Siberia no problem—”

“Tony,” Steve admonished from his place on the couch.

“What?” Tony replied. “Just because Carmen Sandiego here thinks he can travel across the globe searching for his soulmate like some kind of messed up Where’s Waldo game—”

“You know I have no idea what those references are,” Steve cut in. “And Clint’s right; you know if it were me instead of Bucky out there you’d be searching day and night.”

“Again: my plane.” Tony stood and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “It’s not that I don’t think this is a problem…” Clint moved away from the door before he could hear any more.

If Tony didn’t want to help, that was fine. Clint had other ways of getting to Siberia.

\--------------------

“I can’t believe you stole a SHIELD jet,” Natasha said in a bored tone. She kicked her feet up on the instrument panel and leaned back in her chair. “Coulson’s gonna kill you.”

“I just borrowed it for a little while,” Clint replied. “This is important.”

“If Coulson doesn’t kill you, Fury will. Or Bucky will, when he comes back to his senses and realizes all the trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“It’s worth it,” he insisted.

“I’m not saying it isn’t,” Natasha said. “I’d do the same for Bruce. Hell, I _did_ do the same for Bruce, after he decided to go noble and fly himself to some barren island after that whole incident in Russia went down.”

“Tony doesn’t seem to understand,” Clint grumbled. “As if I’d just _leave_ James to God knows what Hydra’s doing to him.”

Natasha hummed noncommittally and inspected her nail beds. Clint shot her a glare and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “What?” he demanded.

“He’s not wrong about you going off half-cocked,” she replied. “There are at least half a dozen places they could be keeping Bucky at—”

“When Bruce was lost in the middle of Austria after that battle against the mutant chimpanzees, you knew exactly where to find him, street name and everything,” Clint interrupted. “Soulmates just know, right?”

“Bruce and I had been together for over a year by then,” Natasha replied. “You two have only been together a few months. Your bond might not be as strong.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You say that about all science, Clint.”

Clint shook his head. “I know Bucky’s in Siberia. Just trust me on this, okay?”

“I always trust you,” Natasha said with a small smile. “Just not your instincts.”

\--------------------

“There is an unauthorized plane landing within the vicinity. What should we do?”

“Send him in. Let him hone his skills again.”

_Hunt. Find. Kill._

“What if it’s one of his friends? He might snap out of it again.”

“Not this time. We made sure it was a clean wipe.”

_Hunt. Find. Kill._

\--------------------

When Clint landed, it was nearing midnight and snowing heavily. He grabbed his winter jacket and slipped it on over his quiver while Natasha buttoned up her own jacket and checked that her weapons were fully loaded.

“Alright, the base should be about five klicks over this ridge, and intel suggests it’s a small research base with about thirty guards in various positions,” Natasha reported as they prepped for the hike. “You take the north and go in soft, and I’ll start a distraction on the south side, keep them occupied for as long as I can. Get in, find Bucky, and get out, okay?”

“Got it.” Clint slid the door to the jet open and shivered against the wind. “What if they’ve wiped his mind again?”

Natasha smiled. “You said you snapped him out before. I’m sure you can figure something out.”

“I couldn’t snap him out last time, when he was on the roof,” Clint protested. “Maybe they’ve perfected the wiping technique.”

“He didn’t exactly give you a lot of time to snap him out, what with him slamming your head into cement. Just keep your distance and talk him down, you’ll be fine.” Natasha stepped out into the snow and bundled her coat around her more firmly. “Now let’s go before we freeze to death.”

By the time the base came into view, Clint was near numb from the cold. He crept along the edge of the base, keeping an eye out for lone guards along the perimeter. When he got to the north entrance, he loaded his bow and took a deep breath. _Bucky is here,_ he thought to himself. _You need to find him now._

“ _Стоп_.”

Clint whirled around and squinted against the pounding snow. He could barely make out a figure, cloaked in black and wearing a lower face mask. “James?” he breathed. “James, is that you?”

The figure shifted and moved steadily towards Clint. He stepped back carefully and nocked his bow, just in case. “James, if that’s you, you need to let me know, okay? Dig deep and give me some kind of sign.”

The figure kept moving forward, and Clint kept retreating until his back hit the cold metal of the base. He inched towards the door and took a deep breath. “James, come on, talk to me,” he tried. “Say something, anything.”

“ _Стоп_.”

“Yes, I know you want me to stop, but I need something else. Do you remember me? Do you remember who I am?”

In the yellowed light of the lamps around the base, Clint could make out Bucky’s eyes with startling clarity. He took a shaky breath, suddenly overcome with how much he had _missed_ those eyes. “James, please,” he said desperately, ignoring how his voice cracked.

The figure reached behind his back and pulled his gun out of its holster. Clint turned and ran.

He blindly reached for the door handle and wrenched the door open just as the first gunshots rang out. They hit the metal wall with a sharp _ping_ and bounced wildly into the snow. Clint raced down the hallway, listening for the thud of boots as he turned corners, heading deeper into the base. He absently wondered why the entire base appeared empty until he heard muffled shouts from the other side of the building. _Natasha must have everyone busy,_ he thought distractedly. More gunshots rang out, and a bullet whizzed just past his ear and lodged itself into a pipe running along the wall. Clint turned and glanced back at Bucky before rounding another corner.

“James, come on and snap out of this!” he called over his shoulder. “Come on, baby, talk to me!”

Another gunshot sounded from even closer, and Clint huffed out a manic laugh. _I’m being chased by my brainwashed soulmate through a supposedly abandoned Hydra warehouse in fucking Siberia,_ he thought to himself. How was this his life?

“ _James_!” he shouted. “I know you’re in there, God damn it! I know you know me! I know you can hear my voice, I know you know it!”

“ _Стоп_ _!_ ” A throwing knife narrowly missed his shoulder as he rounded yet another corner. Clint slid against the wall and leaned back to catch his breath. There was no way he could outrun Bucky like this. There had to be another way.

Clint could hear the thumping boots as they neared him in the hallway. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking desperately of another way to bring Bucky back, until he felt a rough hand close around his throat and lift him from the ground. Bucky threw him against the wall and lifted his gun, eyes cold and hard.

“Red!” Clint said unthinkingly.

Bucky hesitated, gun halfway to Clint’s head. He blinked twice, eyes clearing for half a second.

“Red, James,” Clint huffed. He thought about the irony of it for half a second and promptly shoved it in the back of his mind. For whatever reason, Bucky had always responded to his stupid colors without a second thought—it was possible his self-conditioning had survived the mind wipe. “You want it to change to green? You put the gun down and talk to me in English. As James, not the Soldier.”

“ _красный_ ,” Bucky said distractedly.

“Yeah, James. Now talk to me in English, let me know you’re still there,” Clint huffed. “Come on, come back to me.”

Bucky blinked again several times. He opened his mouth to respond, but whirled around when a sharp bang sounded from one of the corridors. Natasha burst her way through a metal door a moment later, breathing heavily and covered in black soot.

“We need to get out now,” she said. “One of the agents called for backup, and we’ve got at least three jets full of Hydra soldiers on their way to this base as we speak.”

“Hang on, I’ve almost got him,” Clint replied. He turned back to Bucky and found the same glazed over look in his eyes. “Or, I did almost have him.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Natasha said. She flicked her wrist quickly, and Bucky grunted and grabbed his neck. A second later, he fell to the floor in a motionless heap.

“Did you just drug my soulmate?” Clint demanded. Natasha jagged over and grabbed one of Bucky’s arms while Clint grabbed the other.

“We didn’t have time for a love fest,” she said simply. “Now come on, let’s get him back to New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eminen's "Without Me" plays distantly in the background*
> 
> GUESS WHO'S BACK BITCHES.
> 
> (With an admittedly short update but still. It's better than nothing. This story will probably end by next chapter, as I'm completely tapped out of creativity at the moment, though I may write some epilogues for it later. After this I'll be focusing on finishing up An Unexpected Family and then I'll be doing one-shots and short fics only for a while until I get the energy back to work on a multi-chapter fic. Thank you all for being so incredibly patient and supportive.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [these marks you've left on me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3109277) by [avengersincamphalfbloodstardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersincamphalfbloodstardis/pseuds/avengersincamphalfbloodstardis)




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